


Dreamscape

by MidnightCity



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort/Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:06:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6168409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightCity/pseuds/MidnightCity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Jeremy suffers an accident, James starts having nightmares …</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A few months before Jeremy's divorce had been finalized he had asked James if he wouldn't mind being his proxy. “I can hardly list Francie any longer. There is Wilman,” Jeremy had begun to argue. “But he has family and children so he can't be taking care of me too. I know you're also likely to have better things to do. Don't worry all things are settled. It's just a formality.”

Jeremy had left the papers with James. James had a look through them but reading that Jeremy didn't want to stay in a coma for longer that three months was unsettling. Nevertheless James signed the papers. Jeremy had been James' proxy for years too. It was only fair that they would pull the plug on each other.

Despite their jobs, the high risks, and Jeremy's general clumsiness James had never truly believed that one day he might get a call …

 

* * *

  
James was in Australia reading through the script when he felt his phone vibrate. At first he considered ignoring it. But when he looked around him and saw that people were still fiddling with the light setting, so he concluded that he could spare ten minutes. He answered the phone. James wasn't sure how he was supposed to react when a doctor – or maybe it was a nurse – told him that she was calling on behalf of Jeremy Clarkson.

James looked around him, people still absently working out where to place the camera to get the best angle. “Right,“ James confirmed. It couldn't be _that_ bad? Otherwise they would have heard something sooner.

So the woman went on explaining that Jeremy had been brought into hospital after a high-speed crash. He had only come into A&E a few minutes ago, and his condition had been put down as critical.

“Shit, I'm in Australia,” was the first thing that came to James' mind. He swallowed hard. “I'll get on the next flight.”

When James spoke those words various faces turned towards him. James hung up and simply shrugged his shoulders. What the hell was he supposed to say?

“Clarkson's had an accident,” James stated. How could he sound so damn calm? “He's in hospital. I'm going there.”

Nobody argued with him. They could re-shoot this but at the moment James didn't care. He would worry about that once he knew that Jeremy was on his way back to recovery. When James had made sure he would be fine again … _Fuck,_ what if he wouldn't be? What if there was irreversible damage?

The hospital wouldn't have called if it hadn't been important. Had it just been a broken arm then James wouldn't have been informed. He couldn't think like that. James shook his head and forced the thoughts from his mind.

Sitting in a car back to the airport James realized he needed answers. Imagination wasn't his friend. It would only list one scenario after another. One worse than the next. But even half an hour ago the hospital couldn't tell him more.

James was vaguely aware that Jeremy had been shooting a segment himself. _What a massive idiot?_ James cursed Jeremy in his mind. He shouldn't drive so fast all the time!

James needed more information. Had it happened during work? Or when he had been on his way back home?

James looked at the phone in his hands and opened google. Apparently the news hadn't been made public yet. There was no information _at all_ available _._ That was the day. The one time he actually needed the media – who made mountains out of molehills they didn't.

“Damn it,” James cursed and the producer who was driving him stole a glance at him. They all felt the shadow that was looming over them, the ghost from Richard's accident. Richard had been lucky, so damn lucky. But as Jeremy tended to point out, he wasn't a lucky man …

What if James actually had do it? What if he had to pull the fucking plug? James knew that Jeremy didn't want to stay in a coma for longer than three months (“If there is no change after three months there is never going to be one,” Jeremy had argued.) James didn't believe that he could actually do it … Even though he knew in his hearts of hearts that if the time would come he had to.

 

* * *

 

James managed to reach his terminal quickly as he was only travelling with hand-luggage. Since he couldn't sit still he spent the next 30 minutes trying to reach the hospital. Someone had to have some news by now. When he got through they only told James that since this was a phone conversation – he could be anyone - that this information was restricted.

“I'm his bloody proxy!” James shouted into it. Then the line cut … The other person had hung up. James couldn't really blame her.

Next he tried calling Richard and Andy. Neither of them knew more than James. So James got onto the plane with a glum feeling.

How long would it take until he would be back in London? Almost 20 hours … James couldn't sit still. He didn't believe that he would be able to nap either.

Being inside a plane always meant being out of focus for the duration of the flight. Being neither here, nor there. Just somewhere in the clouds with no access to the actual world underneath. The world that might be able to tell him if Jeremy was all right, or if …

James shook his head again and leaned back. He closed his eyes and listened to the music he had on his phone. He could do nothing, and so he spent most of the flight trying not to think of the worst. He couldn't bear it.

 

* * *

 

At some point James must have fallen asleep because the jolts from the landing aeroplane woke him up. As fast as he could he pushed past the people. He wasn't allowed to miss his connection. He crossed boarder control, and then made his way through the airport. There he saw a small news stand. Rubbing the space between his eyes James wondered if it was already a new day and if it would be worth a try to see if there was some information in the papers.

James checked his phone - which was still in flight-mode but it had changed the clock accordingly. It was already a new day. He walked up to the news stand and asked which British papers they had in store.

James chose a copy from _The Daily Telegraph_ but James wasn't sure if they would consider this news. He took a copy from the _Daily Mirror_ as well.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he looked at the front page. James quickly paid and then took off to catch his plane.

James wasn't able think reasonably until the plane took off. Then he reached for the papers again. Jeremy's crash covered the _Daily Mirror's_ front page. James flicked through it until he found the full article. He had to read it twice, and tried very hard to ignore the photo of a burnt-out car next to it.

James shook his head. If all of this was correct … things were bad. After collecting himself again he found a similar article in the _Daily Telegraph_ but it only repeated the words from the Mirror.

Injured, burnt and head injuries … those words struck with James.

James took deep breaths. He needed to be out. He wanted to catch some fresh air, but he knew that this was far from possible. Still he couldn't stop fidgeting, he clenched and un-clenched his fists various times and shook his head. He refused to believe that this was true. It couldn't have happened to Jeremy.

He let out another deep breath and got up to buy himself a drink.

When the plane landed, James had been the first one to get out. He was the first one who rushed through passport control , and of course he was the first one who jumped into a rental car. He legged it.

 

 

* * *

 

James heart was still beating fast when he ran into the hospital. He tried to catch his breath and jumped the queue to get to the receptionist. “Clarkson? Where is he?”

 

He still refused to believe it. Jeremy _had_ to be fine. The worst he ever imagined happened to Jeremy was Clarkson sitting in a hospital bed, clutching his own arm and crying because a cat scratched him. Now … he didn't even want to imagine. Imagination was his enemy. Things were bad, no matter if he was ready to accept it or not.

“Are you family?” the woman asked, not even looking up.

“No ...” She already took a breath, ready to tell him to sod off. “I'm his proxy.”

“Right,” she looked at him. “And you are?”

“James May,” he explained impatiently.

The woman began to type something, and then looked at James.

“Where is he?” James asked, shifting his weight.

“Level 4, Room 25,” she explained and sighed.

James didn't wait for directions, he began to run and followed the signs. While he pushed past people, picked up speed and had to slow down from time to time to avoid a crash, his mind began to wonder …

It had been wondering since the moment he had gotten the call. But this time it was different. This time there was no way he could ignore it, or try to stop it. Reality would hit him in the face very soon. James began to imagine what Jeremy might look like. He might not even be awake, he might be burnt, burnt badly. Or have a nasty wound somewhere on his face. What if Jeremy didn't look much like Jeremy any longer?

And there had been some sort of head injury. What if he was in a coma like Richard had been? What if he couldn't even breathe on his own? James didn't … no, he had to deal with it. Better now, because he didn't want to enter a room with a burnt and hurt Jeremy Clarkson sitting on the bed and look surprised. He didn't want Jeremy to see his surprise. It could be fixed again, James would tell him, no matter how bad. That's what he wanted Jeremy to see when James would enter the room.

James pushed the door open and stood frozen.

“Hey,” Jeremy greeted him, sitting up in bed.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” James burst out.

“Pardon?”

James took a step inside and let the door fall shut behind him. “I travelled half the world, and that is all?”

Jeremy looked down at his body. He shook his head. “Well, I am sorry for not being injured more badly.”

James gaped, his mouth open, taking the image in front of him in. Jeremy was sitting cross-legged on the bed, a pudding in his hand. The other arm was in a cast and the hand was seemingly wrapped up in a bandage. That was all. Everything. Nothing more seemed to be injured. A bloody broken arm!

James resolve crumbled and he smiled weakly. “You better be,” he muttered and walked up to Jeremy's side. “I thought I heard something about head injuries?”

“Injury,” Jeremy corrected and put the pudding aside. “And you did. I got knocked around pretty badly. It's just a concussion. That's why they had to keep me over night. No coma. No permanent damage.”

James smiled weakly, and pointed at the bandage. He could explain the cast without Jeremy's help.

“Burnt.” Jeremy shrugged. “Second degree. Minor scarring, but should be fine.”

James winced and nodded. “That's all?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy replied. Then he frowned. “I did tell the nurse to call you.”

“I didn't … I got nothing,” James explained as he reached inside his trouser pocket.

“Is it possible that you came here right from the airport?” Jeremy asked. He seemed to be sympathising.

James nodded.

“I suppose you had to turn your phone off, and haven't found the time to turn it on again?”

James tapped his phone's screen. “Aha, it's on,” he triumphed. “I just forget to turn the flight mode off.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. James smiled at him, it was nice that Jeremy wasn't in a coma, or injured beyond recognition or various other images he had had in mind.

Suddenly Jeremy began to cough. James snapped into attention. He reached for his shoulder but Jeremy shook his head, Jeremy was trying to reach for something on the small tray. James noticed what he was looking for. James handed him a cup of water, and gingerly helped Jeremy take a few sips.

“It's nothing,” Jeremy explained, his voice hoarse.

James wasn't convinced.

“Okay, there might be a slight case of smoke poisoning,” Jeremy added weakly.

James gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, sadly without considering that if his arm was broken that his shoulder might be bruised too. And in return Jeremy didn't relax against his touch, he winced. James pulled back frightened that he had hurt Jeremy further.

“Nothing to worry about,” Jeremy tried to play it off. He cleared his throat and went on.“They're keeping me for an additional night, but I've been poisoning my body with smoke for years.”

James bit his lip and nodded. “Sure?”

“I promise you.” Jeremy gave the cup back to James. “On my life. In this case this is frighteningly accurate.”

“Jezza,” James tried weakly. But the way that Jeremy looked at him – knowing that he was making a bad joke – just reminded him how much this was Jeremy Clarkson. Bad humour helped him overcome a lot of things.

James smiled at him and nodded.

 

* * *

 

James had refused point blank to go back home. (“Now that I've come all the way to be this disappointed I can at least kip here.”) Since Jeremy didn't seem to mind (“Help yourself, don't snore.”) they just had to find some sheets. James had had carried his hand-luggage with him, so night clothes weren't a problem.

Jeremy didn't bother about what James had read in the papers, most likely assuming that they were wrong anyway. Jeremy didn't remember much, but he began to outline the things he could recall. The moment he had lost control, and that the car had begun to slip and then he remembered a bang.

“Guess that was when it rolled over and I hit my head.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. He didn't remember burning his hand, breaking his arm, or being pulled out of the car wreck.

Even though the doctor had told James that he had been awake during this time, but not responsive. So it was normal that Jeremy wouldn't remember; it was likely that Jeremy's brain protected him.

The next thing Jeremy could remember was coughing himself back to life in the hospital bed, alone. He admitted that that had scared him because he had needed a minute to recall where the hell he was and why the hell he was here. Hammond had appeared a minute later, called a doctor and calmed him. Then things had started to come back to him. At least enough that all of this had started to make sense.

Hammond had stayed the first night; Jeremy had to be woken up every three hours to prevent a coma. The next morning everything was as good as normal. Hammond had wanted to stay another night, but Jeremy was looking fine, and – considering the circumstances - he felt fine.

“I could even use the loo on my own,” Jeremy joked. Hammond had to shoot a clip. At first he had wanted to delay it, but Jeremy had urged him to go, claiming that James would be here soon anyway.

“And then you were there. I might add, not with the kindest words,” Jeremy finished his explanation as James shaved his face in the bathroom. The door had been left open.

“If you were injured more I would be nicer,” James shot back.

James wasn't quite sure why he was so defensive about Jeremy being injured so little. He knew that Jeremy thought he was teasing him. But James felt strange ... He had just expected so much worse, he should be glad that it was only a broken arm. All the fear he had felt, it was still here, it didn't go away. He looked at Jeremy nursing his broken arm while reading a book. The only thing James could think of was that the next moment he would start to cough his lungs out and drop into a coma.

“Are you done?” Jeremy asked, standing in the doorway now.

“Almost,” James replied. “Why?”

“Need a pee.”

James was about to shrug it off. It's not like Jeremy hadn't peed next to him in the past. But then he looked at him, remembered the broken arm and considered that maybe it wasn't aseasy as before.

“Unless you want to help,” Jeremy added casually.

“You wish.” James wiped his face off and left the bathroom. Jeremy closed the door, and since James had the room to himself he changed into his sweatpants and another shirt.

Then he sat down in bed and sighed. He worried about Jeremy, not only about his injuries, or about the injuries James had imagined. Jeremy had talked freely about the accident, but he hadn't told it like it had been his own accident. It was like he had told James about a friend's accident. Maybe that would come later … It had only happened two days ago. What did James expect …

“Ignore the small puddle,” Jeremy declared when he walked out of the small bathroom.

“You could have sat down,” James argued.

“I haven't lost that much of my dignity.” Jeremy crawled into bed and slipped back under the sheets. “Do you know how awkward it must have been to have them cut my clothes off?”

James blinked for a moment. “What?” He guessed that Hammond had brought him the clothes he was wearing right now since they weren't hospital issue.

“Very, is the answer.” Jeremy shook his head. “That poor nurse.”

“But why did they cut them off?” James asked carefully.

“They weren't sure how badly I was burnt,” Jeremy explained, talking casual. It irritated James. “Sometimes the flames sneak under the clothes, so they're fine but you are not.”

James swallowed hard. Before he could stop himself he said, “how can you talk about it like that?”

Jeremy looked at him frowning. “How else am I supposed to talk about it?”

James shrugged his shoulders.

“It didn't happen. It could have but it didn't. What's the point of dwelling on it?”

James stayed quiet.

“Not everyone needs to become a puddle of tears.” Jeremy's voice was sharp. A glum feeling began to spread across James' belly, realising that he shouldn't have said this. He should have kept his mouth shut. “People deal with things differently.”

James looked at his hands, not really wanting to make eye-contact with Jeremy. He bit his lip. Maybe Jeremy was just more used to the idea of death, maybe that made it easier for him. James cleared his throat, wanting to go to bed now. He didn't know why he had said that … he knew that Jeremy treated things differently. After all they weren't the same people.

“James?” Jeremy asked, his voice soft now. “Are you okay?”

James really considered the answer. In the end he chose to be honest and shook his head. “I was just worried,” he muttered. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” Jeremy added, and James heard him slip out of bed. A moment later he was sitting at the edge of James' bed.

James looked at him and nodded slowly. “Aren't you scared of death?”

Jeremy seemed to consider the question. “Death itself? No. That is out of my hands anyway,” Jeremy began to explain. “But I am scared of what it'll do to the people around me.”

James comprehended the words. “Okay.”

“Don't worry about it.” Jeremy wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I'm not planning on going any time soon. And I'm stubborn enough, you know that.”

James smiled weakly. “Yeah.”

Jeremy pulled him into a quick hug and patted his back. “Try to get some sleep,” he told him. Then he detached. James watched as he turned off the lights and settled in bed.

Jeremy was right, he was still here. He hadn't died. He wasn't even injured beyond recognition. If the night would go well, and going by the three times Jeremy had coughed it would be, Jeremy could leave tomorrow.

“Good night,” James muttered as he cuddled his pillow.

“Night, Slow,” Jeremy replied sleepily.

 

* * *

 

The coughing wouldn't stop. It went on and on. During the night James had heard Jeremy cough far and few between in his sleep but never this violently and never for so long. James opened his eyes as he turned onto his side. He had to blink a few times until he could properly see Jeremy, who was lying in bed and helplessly coughed.

It stopped for a moment, and James began to relax. That was it, he would be fine. But James was wrong. A moment later Jeremy shook his head and he coughed again. It was far more violent than any of the prior ones.

“Jez?” James whispered as he slipped out of bed. He stood next to him, watching as Jeremy coughed and coughed. He watched as he tried to breathe in between but it seemed to take too much effort.

“I'll call a nurse, okay?” James offered and he knew that Jeremy tried to nod but instead he coughed.

James gave Jeremy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze, and left the room. As soon as the door fell shut behind him James began to run. He had to find a nurse. But it was in the middle of the night and the whole place looked like it had been abandoned. It took James longer than he would have liked until he found a nurse. As quickly as he could James explained the situation to her. She summoned a doctor and together they made their way back to Jeremy's room.

In the time that James had been gone, Jeremy had rolled onto his side. He was still coughing helplessly, and now his feet were tucked under his body. James spotted a small puddle on the floor. He felt a bang of pity for Jeremy. He had coughed so much that at some point he must have thrown up.

The doctor wasn't bothered by this, and rolled Jeremy on his back. He tried to talk to him, but Jeremy shook his head and continued coughing. Unnecessarily the doctor held a light in Jeremy's eyes and James had to stop himself from slapping the doctor for this. Jeremy began to seriously struggle against them when the nurse started to hold Jeremy down. No, Jeremy would be calm if one would ask him, James was sure of this. This wasn't Jeremy's fault. The nurse shouldn't be holding him down, least of all by his burnt hand. This only increased Jeremy's panic.

“No,” James muttered from the back of the room, while he watched helplessly as Jeremy tried to struggle. Struggle against the nurse who was hurting him, and struggle against his own damn body.

Jeremy coughed again, but this time as he tried to suck in a little air … nothing. Jeremy gaped. It wasn't working. He couldn't breathe, James noticed.

A moment later Jeremy came to the same realization and panicked. He downright panicked. He shook his head, and kicked his legs.

“No, let me,” James whispered and walked towards Jeremy's bed. James knew how to keep him calm until the doctor had a chance to help him. “Jeremy ...” he called out.

Everyone ignored him. They pushed Jeremy further down, telling him to shut up and to stop kicking. Of course Jeremy didn't.

“Jez,” James called out. This time he wanted to push past, and hold Jeremy's hand, tell him to just stay calm for a moment. Then all he would feel better. But someone was holding him back.

“No, I can help,” he tried to argue. “No, please, he'll listen to me.”

Jeremy yelled out in pain. James saw that the doctor had jammed a tube painfully inside Jeremy's mouth. The rest of his screams were muffed by it. “Shut up, we're trying to help you,” the doctor cursed.

“He's scared,” James muttered, wishing they wouldn't be so harsh to Jeremy. James felt tears well up as he saw the blood on the doctor's hands.

“That's what you get for struggling,” the doctor explained.

James shook his head. Jeremy was scared, dead scared. When James looked at Jeremy and Jeremy looked back at him, James could see it. It was clear as day. “Jeremy ...” James tried to sound reassuring.

Jeremy's eyes turned and a moment later he collapsed completely.

 

* * *

 

“Jeremy,” James muttered one last time. He shot upright, noticing the hospital room first. Then he noticed the coughing again. James turned to the source and saw Jeremy lying in bed. No tubes were attached to him. He was breathing freely.

“Nightmare,” James had to conclude.

James slipped out of bed and wiped the moisture from his cheeks. Then he stood next to Jeremy's bed. He reached for the little cup filled with water while he ran his hand along Jeremy's side.

Jeremy stirred in bed, and woke up. “Here drink,” James instructed, and helped him take a few sips.

Jeremy fell back and smiled gratefully at James. He muttered something - most likely a thank you - and promptly fell back asleep again.

James stayed up for longer. He watched over Jeremy, but he never coughed again.

The next morning a doctor checked Jeremy over and declared that he was fit to go home.

James faked a smile, but he worried …

 


	2. Chapter 2

James had assumed that the dreams would get better on their own. After all he could see that Jeremy was healing, and healing well. Apparently Jeremy was a token patient. His arm had broken neatly in one place, so nobody assumed that it would need to be re-broken because it had grown together in the wrong way. Every week Jeremy had to go to his doctor to check if the burnt tissue was healing, and it was. But he had admitted that his it hurt at night. It didn't burn, instead it felt like his skin was too tight and there was pressure on it. This turned out to be normal. So with the help of a cream and some lightly dosed sleeping pills Jeremy could fall into a restful sleep. James shouldn't worry, not even Jeremy worried.

After a week Jeremy could write again. It took longer, but it was just as perfect as everything else. So two weeks after the accident his _Sunday Times_ column was filled with a humorous story about hospital food. The first paragraph devoted to the accident and re-assuring everyone that he was doing fine.

James read it, but it left him wondering how Jeremy could write so easily about it, even more so publicly. He could have died, and yet here he was writing about how James had stolen his pudding.

“I guess because I see it like crashing into a lamp post,” Jeremy explained to James after he had inquired. “It was nothing different. I banged my head, broke my arm, but all is healing well.”

Then he shrugged his shoulders and reached for his Coke. James took the words in.

“Did you never wonder about what could have been?” James asked carefully. After all he didn't want Jeremy to snap again.

“Not really,” Jeremy answered after a moment. “Maybe I should, and I used to for a night or two, but it didn't happen. I am not the kind of person who dwells on alternatives.”

James nodded, that was true. The strange thing was that James didn't dwell on those either. And still he woke up drenched in sweat each night. At first it had always been the same dream: James arrived at the hospital and Jeremy was in a coma, or worse died soon after.

James had always been aware that those had been nightmares. He knew where he was after he had woken up. He could tell that it hadn't been real at once. He knew that Jeremy was fine, and only a few miles away from him.

As Jeremy continued to heal James' nightmares only got worse. They should have gotten better. James started to forget where he was. It started to take longer and longer to remember, and to recall that all of this had been a dream. Lately he always ended up in front of his laptop with a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders and sipping on a cup of tea. He could never go back to sleep afterwards. By the time he felt like sleeping again he simply decided to start the day instead.

However, James didn't manage this for long. Soon he started to feel tired during the day as well. He tried countermeasures, such as taking small naps before meeting friends. They were always long enough for his batteries to re-charge but never long enough for the dreams to start. This was good, because he would only have nightmares again. He would only find Jeremy lying at the bottom of the stairs again, bleeding and limbs pointing in the wrong directions …

At some point his body just gave up on James, and he fell asleep during work. Somewhere in the distance he was able to hear laughter. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“May? Mate?”

“What?” James mumbled and became aware of the desk's hard surface. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Jeremy leaning over him. He was frowning but James was grateful that he didn't ask any question with their co-workers in the background.

“Come on, want to go for a smoke?” Jeremy offered instead.

James nodded. He got up, felt his knees crack and followed Jeremy outside. James watched as Jeremy lightened his fag. James let out a breath, trying to shift the fog in front of his eyes and reached inside his trousers pockets.

“I left them inside,” James realized.

As he was about to turn around to get them Jeremy lightly placed a hand on James' shoulder. “Hang on,” he mumbled, his cigarette tangling between his lips. “Here.”

Then he handed James a fag. James smiled, and nodded a thank you to him while he put it between his lips. Jeremy lit it for him.

“Welcome,” Jeremy replied.

They smoked in silence. James could feel the fog lifting while the nicotine filled his lungs. Slowly he started to feel more like himself, relaxing slightly.

“So?” Jeremy began as soon as James felt like he could comprehend things again. Jeremy must have watched him. “What is it?”

“Huh?”

“You just head-butted your desk, and you didn't do that on purpose,” Jeremy began. “I'm assuming you're not sleeping well. Since this has never happened to me, I can safely guess it's been going on for a while. What is it?”

James sighed and leaned against the building. “I'm having nightmares.”

Jeremy nodded. “Bad?”

James looked up when he heard how soft Jeremy's voice had gone. For a brief moment James saw a flash of something that had never happened. An image of a Jeremy who was bleeding and disfigured. “Very.” James shook his head, getting rid of the image. “I can't go back to sleep afterwards.”

Jeremy looked at the ground, leaving the two of them in silence.

“Don't you have nightmares?” James asked.

Jeremy looked up, and James was pretty sure that he had crossed the line. Jeremy would snap, leave him alone to fight his demons, and tell him to mind his own business. But the surprise wore off quickly, and Jeremy softened.

“I had … a few,” Jeremy admitted quietly.

James could tell that Jeremy had never wanted anyone to learn about this. He took a final drag and then stepped onto his cigarette.

“James, I'm driving you home today,” Jeremy declared before James had a chance to reply.

James pointed at the broken arm. “You're not even supposed to drive.”

“Yeah, but you might fall asleep at the wheel, which is far worse than me driving with one and a half hands,” Jeremy replied. “Make you a nice cup of tea, make sure your feet stay warm and then you'll have a nice deep sleep.”

James smiled weakly, he appreciated the sentiment but knew it wouldn't be as simple as that. “Warm feet?” he asked.

“Mhm, according to my Mum that helps against nightmares,” Jeremy explained smiling at him.

James smiled back. “I'll thank you with some curry and a war film,” James agreed. He hoped that if he knew that Jeremy was fine by the time he fell asleep that the nightmares wouldn't appear.

“You better be,” Jeremy replied smoothly.

 

* * *

 

Jeremy took care of him. He made tea, he ordered some curry for James to enjoy, and then they settled on the sofa to watch a war film. Halfway through – after Jeremy returned form the kitchen – he found the blanket with which James had wrapped himself up all the nights prior. With a smile Jeremy put it around James' shoulders and gave him a small squeeze.

James looked up, and for a moment saw how open Jeremy was. He could see how much Jeremy cared and how gentle he was treating him. James didn't want to lose him, not when Jeremy allowed James to see this side of him too. The thought almost made James tear up, instead he uttered a small “thank you” and turned his attention back to the film.

Then he dozed off, his head had fallen to the side, landing on Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy woke him up again, but only after the end credits had rolled. They made the way upstairs, James mostly leaning against the taller man. Jeremy tucked him in and squeezed his shoulder. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Lock the door,” was the only thing that James had uttered. A few minutes later James was able to hear the keys jingling and heard him lock the door. He sighed, for once convinced that tonight would be a good night and fell asleep quickly.

 

* * *

 

A ring brought James back from dreamland. He reached sleepily for his phone on the bedside table, reading Jeremy's name. “Oh god,” he breathed. “Jezza,” he picked up, his voice sounded very quiet.

“May, sorry to wake you,” James heard Jeremy. “I've left my jacket in your house, I'm just going to get it. I didn't want to frighten you. Thought I'd call first.”

James shook his head. “Yeah, that's fine.” James let out a sigh, feeling relief.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I was just dozing,” James lied and turned on the lamp. “Where are you?”

“Just getting to Hammersmith roundabout, will be there in --- NO!”

James could hear a car horn, followed by a loud bang. The next thing he heard was the very distinctive sound of metal changing its form. James expected to hear screaming, heavy breathing, or the sound a phone made when someone moved it. James heard none of those things. There was only silence.

“Jeremy?” he whispered, feeling his hands as they began to shake. “Jez?”

James took a sharp breath and tried to calm down. “Come on, Clarkson. This isn't funny,” he told him.

Nothing.

James noticed that his vision began to blur. “Jezza, please.” Then he began to sob.

God, that couldn't have happened. This wasn't possible. The world couldn't be this cruel. Not like this! Not when he had survived everything else. Not when it could have happened otherwise. Not when James could have held him instead …

“Jezza?” he asked again but got no reply.

Then James got out of bed and ran down the stairs, he didn't know what he was doing, only where he was going. Hammersmith Roundabout was only two streets down.

He ran. He didn't even put on shoes. He just ran. The cold air cut him, and when he turned the first corner he could already see the flashing lights in the distance. “Jeremy!”

“Jeremy,” he breathed again, standing at the end of the street. A policeman holding him back. Slowly it began to dawn on him that he was too late. It was too late. A lorry had crashed into the side of Jeremy's car, throwing his car in the middle of the roundabout, right where an artfully designed brick wall had been built. He had crashed right into it.

James began to cry, nobody could survive that. His car wasn't even recognisable any longer. The driver's side had been crashed into the wall, and the other side was dented in by the lorry. “Jezza,” James muttered and felt his knees give out.

This couldn't have happened … how was this fair? James sat on the cold ground, watching as people inquired who he was. But nobody wondered why he was here, or why he was crying …

James saw them cut open Jeremy's car and pulled out a body. Jeremy's body. His arm still in a cast and the bandage wrapped around it.

No … this wasn't fair.

 

* * *

 

James hit it again and again. He didn't stop. Not even when someone shouted for him to stop. He couldn't stop. He had to know. It wasn't possible. He couldn't see, he couldn't think. He had to!

“Shut up!”

Finally James heard someone turn the lock and the door opened in front of him.

“You're alive,” James stated helplessly as more and more tears fell down.

“I dare say so,” Jeremy replied, but was clearly put off by the state James was in.

James let out a sob and hugged Jeremy. Yes, he was alive. Fucking alive. His body was warm, and breathing and he had staggered back a little. Now his arms were around James, holding him. James began to cry. _Fuck._

“It's okay,” Jeremy muttered as he drew soothing circles.

“Oh great, finally the gay couple shuts up,” James heard a male voice behind them.

“Oi, Jeff, go back and wank!” Jeremy shouted back.

Jeremy didn't let go of James. At least not until James let go of him.

“You better get inside.” Jeremy stepped aside and let James pass. “Jesus, look at you.”

For the first time James did. He wasn't even wearing shoes, only the two pair of socks he had put on as a joke. He was still in his pyjamas – meaning sweatpants and a shirt, he hadn't even bothered with a jacket.

“I'll make you a cuppa, warms you up,” Jeremy announced and left for the kitchen.

James couldn't quite believe this and followed Jeremy, afraid that he would disappear if he didn't. It had felt so real, too fucking real. He had seen them pull Jeremy's lifeless body out of the wreckage. And now Jeremy was standing in the kitchen trying to get two cups with only one arm.

“Let me,” James muttered and pushed Jeremy aside. When James turned around to put the cups next to the boiling cattle he blurted out,“you died.”

“I promise you, I didn't,” Jeremy stated, but James could see the worry he had tried to hide.

James shook his head.

“How the hell did you even get here?” Jeremy asked and stepped closer to him. “Your car is still at the office.”

James shrugged his shoulders. He tried to recall it. Did he take the tube? A cab? A bike? Did he run? He couldn't remember. Why couldn't he? “I don't know.”

Jeremy frowned. “Don't worry about it,” trying to sound reassuring. “You can stay here, okay?”

James sniffed and nodded. Jeremy bit his lip and slipped out of the cardigan he had thrown over his shirt. Gently he put it on James' shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze. Maybe for the first time Jeremy began to realize how bad those nightmares were.

Jeremy poured two cups and handed one to James. “I'll just have to make the guest room for you,” Jeremy began to explain. James only held the cup between his hands, feeling the warmth return to his fingers. “Fin stayed here two days ago. I have to put on new sheets. You can take a shower in the meantime.”

James nodded absently. Why did this feel like a dream?

“Calms your nerves, is warm,” Jeremy suggested, and put the cup aside.

He walked towards his own bedroom to get clean sheets. James followed like a ghost. He just wanted to make sure ... He wanted to be sure that Jeremy was really here. It had felt too real.

Jeremy didn't seem to mind, he didn't comment on it. “You know where the towels are, but finish your tea first, okay?”

James stood in the doorway, watching as Jeremy put the sheets onto the guest bed. He was surprisingly skilful given that he couldn't use one of his arms. It was just a broken arm, James reminded himself. This was real. Jeremy was real. He hadn't been wedged between some stupid wall and a lorry.

“You died,” James muttered as Jeremy fluffed up the pillow.

Jeremy turned around and looked at James, he was clearly worried. James let out a sob and shook his head. A tear ran down his cheek. Then he felt someone cup his cheek, gently wiping the tears away.

James opened his eyes again, seeing Jeremy, feeling his warmth. The look on his face broke James' heart. “It had felt so real,” James had never meant to say it.

Jeremy bit his lip and seemed to contemplate his next words. “I am alive,” he whispered.

James closed his eyes while he took the words in. He felt the warmth that radiated form Jeremy, and felt his breath against his face. _This was real._ James nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Jeremy gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Do you want to take a shower? And I promise you, I'll just be sitting in the living room, okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied weakly. James believed him.

 

* * *

 

When James returned from the shower he found new clothes laid out for him. But Jeremy didn't ask for the cardigan back, neither did he force James to talk. He only muttered that if he felt like talking James knew where he was. They sipped on their second cups of tea, while sitting in the bedroom talking casually until James yawned. Jeremy told him it was bed time and reached for James' cup of tea with his damaged hand. “Will it scar?”

Jeremy looked lost for a moment. Then he noticed that James was looking at his hand. “Yeah,” he replied quietly. “It was second degree.”

“How much?” James asked.

Jeremy sat down next to him as he began to undo the bandage. Before James got a chance to protest he stated, “it's fine, I have to put a cream on it each night.”

He showed James his hand, half of it had been burnt and was red. It mostly centred around the thumb area.

“Doctor said that will scar. For sure.” Jeremy pointed at a fine but deeper line running from the space between his index finger and thumb down the wrist. “But if I am brave and a good boy the rest will go back to the way it was.”

James looked up from the hand and at Jeremy. “You could have died,” James simply muttered.

Jeremy put the bandage back into place. He took a deep breath before replying, “could have, yes.” His voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head before he looked directly into James' eyes. “But I didn't.”

“I know … you're stubborn enough,” James finished for him, finally feeling a smile on his lips.

“Exactly.” Jeremy returned the smile and patted his shoulder. “Try to get some sleep, okay?”

James nodded and watched as Jeremy left the room.

“I'll leave the doors open, just don't snore.”

Ever since those nightmares started, this was the first time James fell asleep after having one.

 

* * *

 

James had the ghost impression of someone brushing his hair out of his face, and afterwards a shy kiss being placed on top of his head. Someone cared … and so James woke up smiling. In a bed that wasn't his own but very familiar to him. James remembered that he had stayed in Jeremy's guest bedroom, between warm blankets.

Had Jeremy …? No, James must have dreamt that. Jeremy wouldn't kiss the top of his head. James turned onto his shoulder and saw the cup of tea on the night stand. He smiled weakly and sat up to take a sip. As he took the still warm cup in his hands he noticed the post-it note. James read it.

“ _Buying breakfast, will be back in 10. Found old pre-paid phone in case you need anything.”_

_Of course,_ James thought. James hadn't even put shoes on. He hadn't thought about taking his phone with him. James lifted the old and chunky thing that passed as a phone years ago. Then he unlocked it and typed in Jeremy's number.

What the hell should he even write? Are you still alive? Am I dreaming again? Will you be run over as soon as I text you?

James wrote nothing, he put the phone aside and sipped on the tea and began to count to ten minutes from then on.

Jeremy came back after three. James could hear the door being unlocked, someone throwing shoes in the corner, and then – the only quiet thing about this – put the plastic bag on the kitchen table. A moment later Jeremy peeked into the room.

“Morning.” He smiled at James.

James stared, his mind lost for a moment. Then he nodded as a greeting to Jeremy.

“I'll have breakfast ready in a minute,” Jeremy explained. “I already showered, so it's all yours. I can lend you a razor and clothes. Also we could drive by your place before work.”

James looked at him. “Yeah, that'd be good,” he just replied, but felt out of focus. If James had left without his shoes and phone, maybe his house was standing wide open …

Jeremy smiled at him and left for the kitchen. After James finished his tea in bed, he intended to walk to the bathroom but a sharp pain from his foot stopped him. He hobbled instead, enduring the strange way Jeremy looked at him. In the bathroom James spotted the source; he found a small cut on the palm of his foot. He gently touched it and winced. For the first time he seemed to notice the aching in his muscles. James must have run to Jeremy's flat. He couldn't believe that. He had run across London, it must have happened. It was the only explanation that made sense.

After the shower, Jeremy had disinfected the cut and doctored on it so James could walk without too much pain. “Piece of glass” he guessed, but didn't comment further.

While James enjoyed breakfast Jeremy was looking for suitable clothes for him to wear. James had point blank refused to wear one of Jeremy's Geography teacher shirts. So they had settled for an old band t-shirt, and the cardigan he had been given last night. An old leather jacket with beige lining protected James form the cold wind. Jeremy suggested he should keep it since it didn't fit him any longer. James had to live with jeans which were a few inches too long.

When they drove to Hammersmith James muttered an almost inaudible “thank you.” At first he wasn't even sure if Jeremy had heard him, but once James managed to look up he saw that Jeremy smiled softly at him.

“Looks whole,” Jeremy offered and pointed at James' house.

He parked the car sloppily in the drive and James got out. The door was closed but it hadn't been locked. James went inside his house, but everything was still in place. Since Jeremy's jeans insisted on slipping down, and James constantly stepping on them didn't help, he quickly changed into a pair of his own jeans. He kept shirt, cardigan and jacket on. Then he fed Fusker and walked back to Jeremy.

 

* * *

 

After this night Jeremy seemed to take care of James. James didn't know if he should be touched or not. Jeremy called him each night before going to bed. After a while James called him when he went to bed. This way Jeremy didn't wake James up.

It didn't help … much. James had never run across London again and was glad for that. However, he still had nightmares. He never woke up screaming or shouting, instead he woke up feeling displaced, desperate, like he had lost someone very dear to him. His breath would run short and he'd cry. Often he would reach for his phone and call Jeremy. He always picked up. Even if Jeremy was sleepy and his replies were only grunts. This was perfectly fine too, he just needed anything that indicated Jeremy was still in one piece.

Then, and only then, James would calm down and the panic would wear off. Nevertheless he could never fall asleep again. Sometimes he would have an hour long conversation with Jeremy, then he'd lie and say he'd try to go back to sleep. Very rarely he kept at it. Even when he tried it never worked.

A part of James even began to believe that this would be his life from now on. He would get used to it. He would get used to calling Jeremy in the middle of the night. He would get used to having those dreams. He would get used to never going back to sleep after having one. He would get used to taking more naps.

James didn't like the idea. But by now he couldn't even tell what a good night's sleep had felt like. James would _have_ to get used to this. He didn't have a choice. He had never planned for things to go this way. But then again, Jeremy had never meant to crash and he would be scarred for life as well. Quite literally.

It was strange that despite Jeremy's readiness to pick up the phone in the middle of the night, and various offers to kip in Jeremy's guest room – James had declined each of them – Jeremy never talked directly to James about this. James didn't know what to make of that, for one he was glad. He wouldn't know where to begin with his explanation. James felt like he couldn't explain all those things to Jeremy, mostly because the dreams cut closer and closer to home.

One time James had dreamt that he had been in Jeremy's flat. They had had breakfast and it had been far more than mates being mates. He had felt Jeremy's arm around his shoulders. Then Jeremy had given him a gentle kiss. James remembered being happy, feeling comfort. He had smiled in his sleep. It didn't last, as always Jeremy had to drive away and a moment later James' phone would ring. He had been killed.

After those particular dreams the conversation with Jeremy would be brief. The panic would leave and James was only left wondering. It would never happen, James told himself after those dreams. They were _not_ meant to be happy.

In the office James was often looking at Jeremy. More than he would have liked. James sat at his desk, typing his review and then he could hear Jeremy laughing in their small kitchen. James risked a look and saw Jeremy smiling, a cup of coffee in his hand and sharing another joke with Richard. Despite himself, James smiled. Only seeing Jeremy smiling was enough. It was good.

Then he realized what he had done and turned back to the computer. Just that his mind was no longer with the car, but with Jeremy. Was he having those feelings for Jeremy? No, most likely not. He just wanted to make sure that Jeremy was safe, that he would never again crash. Then James would never be so scared in his life again. It just wouldn't be fair. No harm should ever come to Jeremy again. Jeremy was too good. He was a man who still picked up the phone in the middle of the night, even after two weeks.

 

* * *

 

“Now look at that.” James meant to turn around but a hand was thrust under his nose. Jeremy's hand. A new bandage had been applied but the cast was gone. “I am one piece again.”

James smiled at Jeremy. “Technically you always were one piece,” he replied in good humour.

“Don't be so pedantic.” Jeremy smiled at him, in a subconscious gesture he ran his fingertips over where James assumed his bone had split into two.

James nodded. “All right, am glad you're whole again.” He honestly was. “How does it feel?”

Jeremy leaned against the table and shrugged his shoulders. “It still hurts a bit,” he explained. “But since I am heroic I shall endure it. We can finally film all those bits with the three of us.”

“True,” James agreed. They had fallen behind in clips that included all of them. Legally Jeremy wasn't even allowed to drive, and who knew in what kind of trouble they'd get if Jeremy would be seen driving at high speeds with a broken arm.

“And before you know it,” Jeremy cut through his thoughts. “We'll be sharing a room again, watching war movies and end the night together in bed.”

“Looking forward to it, honey,” James joked.

Jeremy tilted his head. “Me too, darling.”

They smiled at each other and then a silence settled. James intended to get back to writing but Jeremy was still leaning against the table, nursing his arms.

“What's wrong?” James asked carefully.

“Erm ...” Jeremy cleared his throat. “You know that this crash … erm, well Andy wants to look at the footage. I have to too, because stuff that I'm not comfortable with will be cut out.” James guessed that even if uncomfortable parts were in it Jeremy would leave them in. Just act like it wouldn't bother him, on screen that could work. “I just … I haven't seen anything yet, and I can't remember it. I was just wondering if you … could come with me.” Jeremy's voice had gone quiet by the end.

James looked at him, seeing how he held his hand in the other, his eyes focusing on the floor rather than on James. “Sure,” James replied. “Now?”

Jeremy nodded. “Thanks.”

 

* * *

 

James had prepared for the worst. He hadn't seen any footage either. It had been under lock and key and prior it had been handed to the police. Nobody had leaked it. However, the last thing to live in this world would be paparazzi and so a few photos had been all over the internet and the papers. James had seen those, but Jeremy? He wasn't sure.

At the moment he could tell that Jeremy was nervous. He was clearly fidgeting, holding his hand in the other. Even Wilman had seen it and hence he hadn't commented on James coming along.

Jeremy took a deep breath and then nodded to give Andy the okay. Andy pressed play. They watched the screen in silence.

They watched as Jeremy took off for the track and delivered his lines. Then he picked up speed, hurled the car around corners. Jeremy explained how fast the car could go and how fast it could go and still handle a corner according to the numbers. Jeremy wanted to prove that. He took a corner at the recommended speed. James could spot the exact moment Jeremy realized that the car was losing control. He tried to hold it, but a moment later realization dawned that it was too late. Jeremy let out a curse. Suddenly the car turned over. A bang could be heard: Jeremy hitting his head. Then another bang followed by a crack: Jeremy's arm breaking.

The car settled and in the distance sirens were blearing. Jeremy seemed to be dimly aware of things, his eyes barely open and not focusing on anything in particular. Then they widened and Jeremy began to scream. It was the moment his arm had caught fire.

While James watched the medics running towards the car and pulling Jeremy out, his real equivalent cleared his throat. “I'm going for a piss,” he declared. Before either Andy or James had a chance to confirm they heard him he was out of the door.

James looked at Andy, asking a silent question. Andy nodded, so James got up and followed.

When James reached the bathroom and pushed the door open, he saw Jeremy with his back slightly turned to him. He was fumbling with his pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“You're not supposed to smoke in here,” was the first thing James thought of to get his attention.

Jeremy turned around, his hands shaking and his eyes were watering. _Shit._ “I can't do it outside because I am about to have a fucking panic attack!”

James looked at him, taking a deep breath. Without thinking further about it he took the additional steps towards Jeremy – the door falling shut behind him – and tightly grabbed his arms. James could feel Jeremy's whole body shaking.

“I don't remember it! I thought it would be like watching some accident,” Jeremy shouted, the lighter falling to the floor. James nodded, listening, watching as more panic seemed to rise in him. “It isn't! It wasn't. I was scared to death!”

James nodded, no words would help Jeremy out of this. He hugged him instead. At first Jeremy froze but a moment later he wrapped his arms around James. Tightly holding onto him. Very tightly. It appeared like Jeremy would die if he'd let go. After this Jeremy's breathing quickly slipped out of his control. It became uneven and jagged.

James gently reminded him to just keep breathing, not matter if it wasn't regular, he just had to keep at it. Then he guided them to sit down on the floor. James was pretty sure that Jeremy's feet would give away soon.

Jeremy shook his head, seemingly afraid to lose the last bit of control he had left. No matter how little it was. James ignored it, he just held Jeremy through it, held him very tightly and allowed Jeremy to do the same. He felt his arms lock tightly around James.

At some point Andy walked in and settled next to them. He placed a hand on Jeremy's shoulder and uttered comforting words, words that Jeremy wasn't very likely to be able to comprehend. Jeremy dug his head further into the nape of James' neck, shaking his head.

After what seemed like an hour – but were only minutes in reality – Jeremy's breathing slowly returned. He loosed his grip on James, but still hugged him. The tears were falling quietly now. James gave him a squeeze. “It's okay,” he muttered and watched as Jeremy nodded slowly.

Then James looked at Andy, who looked as worried as James felt, but he nodded. James agreed quietly; the worst seemed to be over. Maybe they should have known better than throw Jeremy into the cold water like that. Maybe Jeremy had known, after all he had taken James along. Did it really matter? James wondered, the damage was done. James carefully wiped the tears from Jeremy's face away. What mattered now was to make sure Jeremy would be comfortable, that he'd feel safe again.

Jeremy opened his eyes and let out a long breath. He shook his head, wanting to say something but Andy cut him off. “Listen, go home,” he explained. “We'll talk tomorrow. Now get some rest.”

Jeremy really seemed to consider declining the offer. But James gave him a squeeze and that seemed to remind Jeremy of the position he was in: sitting in James' arms, holding onto him and Andy sitting on the other side.

Jeremy nodded.

James smiled weakly, but he didn't know what to say, or what to do. He simply reached for the pack of cigarettes which had also fallen to the floor and handed it to Jeremy. Jeremy smiled weakly and got one out. Meanwhile Andy collected the lighter and gave it to him. However, Jeremy had trouble operating it. James snatched it from him and lit his fag. Then he offered to drive Jeremy back home.

Jeremy nodded as he took the first drag.

Andy gave Jeremy's knee a squeeze and got up. “Don't get caught,” he replied half-heartedly as he opened the small bathroom window. “I'll pack your things, okay?” Then he left them alone.

Jeremy didn't make any efforts to move out of James' arms or talking. He smoked in silence, and James didn't have the heart to let go of him.

After Jeremy finished the fag James helped him back on his feet and they got rid of the incriminating evidence. James nodded at him and Jeremy managed to smile weakly back. On their way to his office James left his arm resting on his shoulder. Jeremy seemed to be grateful for that.

By the time they had reached Jeremy's flat he had to lean against James for support. James didn't mind, he felt sad. He should have guessed that something like that could happen, he should have guessed that a video could trigger Jeremy. All this time Jeremy had dealt easily with the accident, or at least it was what he had chosen to show them. Maybe even Jeremy had been surprised that this could happen. James sighed and when he gently dropped Jeremy on the bed, untied his shoes and pulled the belt out of the loops he worried about other things. Jeremy seemed tired, but he was so obviously uncomfortable alone.

James gently pushed him into a lying position and tucked him in. Then he ran his hand through the thinning curls and noticed how Jeremy relaxed against the touch.

“Can you … stay?” Jeremy asked, almost whispering.

“Yeah.” James nodded. “I can use the guest room.”

“No, I meant … here,” Jeremy muttered. “I don't want to be alone.”

James softened and nodded. “Sure.” Only when those simple words where spoken, did Jeremy close his eyes. “I'll just make some tea, okay?”

“Yeah.”

James had watched over Jeremy while he fell asleep. He hoped that it would be restful as well. Jeremy needed to get all the weariness out of his body. He hoped that the next morning he wouldn't carry a constant dark feeling around.

When darkness settled and James felt tired too, he did as Jeremy had requested and stayed. He simply slipped out of his trousers and neatly put them at the end of the bed. Luckily he was wearing boxers. This would feel far more awkward had he worn briefs. With a sigh James wiggled under the sheets. Jeremy shuffled a little in bed but only clutched the pillow tighter. Jeremy's back was still turned towards James, and for a very brief moment James considered spooning. It would keep him safe. It would keep the fears away.

James didn't. He couldn't allow that. Jeremy was weak and vulnerable at the moment. He couldn't …

“Good night, Jez,” James simply muttered. He didn't expect a reply. James turned the lights off and closed his eyes.

It was one of the few nights when he didn't wonder if he'd have nightmares. So when he woke up the next morning, having slept through, it barely registered.

 


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning James woke up alone in Jeremy's bed. James found him in the kitchen instead. Jeremy smiled weakly when he saw James. In return, James gave his shoulder a squeeze. He wondered for a brief moment if this was another dream of his.

No, if it would be Jeremy wouldn't look so exhausted. James could see that a shadow was following Jeremy. Sleeping had helped, but it hadn't erased everything.

“Jez ...” James began as he considered talking to Jeremy about what had happened yesterday. Jeremy looked up at him, only smiling weakly. James could read that he wouldn't want to talk, he seemed to silently beg him not to ask. “Hope you got the right jam this time,” James told him instead.

Jeremy smiled gratefully and nodded. “No, because it's crap,” Jeremy replied and handed James the butter. Only when they left the house did James mention that if he should need anything he could always come to him. Jeremy only muttered that he had known that.

 

* * *

 

James was often surprised by how private Jeremy kept some things. After all he seemed to be open about almost anything: his passions, his children (up to a point), hobbies, embarrassing stories, touching stories, his feelings in general … but he didn't talk about what had happened.

At first James wondered if Jeremy might be ashamed that he had had a panic attack. However, Jeremy didn't act awkwardly around James. He was acting normal. Almost too normal. He didn't talk about it _at all._ He was ignoring the whole topic full stop.

 

* * *

 

One night James woke up screaming that Jeremy shouldn't cross the road because a lorry was about to run him over. This night James considered not calling Jeremy. He might not talk about it, but James knew he was dealing with all of this now, more than he had to before.

But James could feel the panic slowly creeping up on him. He could almost hear a voice telling him that Jeremy had been run over. It had all been James' fault. In the end he called, otherwise he might have run across London again.

“James,” Jeremy replied sleepily.

“Jez, I am sorry.” He always began like that.

“It's fine.” Jeremy always replied like that.“It's been three days since your last call.”

James stared blankly ahead and nodded. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

James considered that. Jeremy was right; it's been three days since he had called, but nightmares? He had had one last night, but it wasn't too bad. He hadn't needed to hear Jeremy's voice afterwards. It hadn't been bad enough to make sure that he actually lived. The night before that? Had he slept through? It had been the night that Jeremy had kipped in the guest bedroom after they had gotten drunk together. “Is that a cause for celebration?”

“Might be,” Jeremy replied.

James sighed. “What are you up to?”

“Besides sleeping?”

“Sorry,” James muttered.

“May.” Jeremy's voice was soft. “I was joking. I wasn't actually asleep.”

“Okay,” James didn't ask what he was doing. He most likely dreamt badly too.

Jeremy took a deep breath and began to talk again. “I remember bits.”

For a moment James considered what he should reply. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy whispered. “It's just strange.”

“How come?”

“For a month I had this gap in my memory, and now it's coming back in bits,” Jeremy explained. “But I still have a whole month where I couldn't recall a thing. I am not sure if that makes sense.”

James smiled weakly, and tried to imagine what it must be like to be in Jeremy's shoes at the moment. “What about the memories?” James asked quietly. “Can you cope?”

“I think so,” Jeremy muttered. “I am just not sure I can get into a fast experimental car any time soon.”

“Maybe you could talk to someone,” James offered.

“I am?”

“No, I meant … a professional.”

James had expected Jeremy to deny it, and explain that it hadn't been such a tragic accident. Instead Jeremy replied, “maybe.”

“Richard might know someone.”

“Yeah, I could ask,” Jeremy told him. “I'll think about it.”

James slipped out of bed and walked into the kitchen to make tea.

“What about you?” Jeremy asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“What about me?” James asked as he put the kettle on.

“Well, you're having quite a lot of nightmares. I know you're not fond of sleeping pills, so have you considered talking to someone?”

James opened his mouth but Jeremy beat him to it. “Don't you dare say, >I am talking to you.<”

Despite himself James smiled. “I have considered it, but I am not sure it would help.”

“Obviously you can't get to the root of it,” Jeremy told him bluntly. “Might need a nudge.”

James sighed. Besides that one time where James had run across London, James hadn't told him what he dreamt about. But James was pretty sure that Jeremy already knew.

“A few nightmares at the beginning were normal. But running across London with just your socks on ...”

“You make it sound like I was wearing _only_ socks,” James tried to brighten up the mood while pouring himself a cup of tea.

“You know what I am trying to say,” Jeremy simply finished.

James sat down at the kitchen table and nodded. “They are getting better,” he muttered. Even to him it sounded pathetic. So what? He only had really bad nightmares every three days … and that theory had only appeared in the last three days …

“James ...”

“I know,” he sighed. “I'll … I'll think about it.”

Jeremy sounded relieved when he said “good.”

“Maybe some long lost childhood trauma,” James joked.

“Might be,” Jeremy went along. “Teddy Bear that had been run over by a wooden sledge and was never seen again.”

James laughed. This was much better. Usually they didn't have those serious conversation over the phone. Jokes and a little banter was usual. It was better …

 

* * *

 

When James woke up in the morning, he thought back to the conversation. He was glad that they had talked seriously for once and that Jeremy had opened up to him as well. This way it was easier to admit that Jeremy was right, he might seek out the help of a professional. In a way James knew the root of things, but he didn't want to admit it. It scared him …

Then James told himself to worry about this later. Since Jeremy's accident the schedule had been pushed together. So he would spend the next two weeks working, travelling from country to country, shooting and driving cars.

 

* * *

 

When they begun shooting in the States, Wilman had added additional time in case Jeremy would need time to get used to the circumstances again. After all driving a fast car and talking to a camera had been how the accident had happened. While Jeremy was obviously nervous, he only needed an hour to get used to things again. Then he cracked a joke why there was a bandage around his hand and things went back to normal.

James was glad to see that Jeremy didn't have any troubles. He was also glad to notice that he didn't feel any panic when he saw Jeremy handling the fast car with such ease. James was aware that Jeremy was an excellent driver. Part of him even became convinced that after seeing this, James sleep would go back to normal in no time. Tonight he would sleep peacefully, he told himself.

 

* * *

 

In the hotel bar Jeremy began to talk endlessly about a little restaurant someone had recommended to him. Jeremy wanted to check it out, but refused to go alone. Somehow he managed to charm James into agreeing to come with him.

“He's charming your panties off!” Hammond shouted as they had left for the restaurant. James just showed him a V, while Jeremy laughed next to him.

“I'm glad it works!” Jeremy shouted back. James elbowed him, which caused Jeremy to laugh harder. James couldn't help himself he joined in.

“Now, Lexus or Aston?” Jeremy asked, but he intended to drive them no matter which car.

James took the bait. “Come on, you're just waiting to drive the Aston.”

“True.” Jeremy requested the keys to James' car. “You'd let me, right?”

James smiled at him. “If you're nice tonight.” He wiggled with his eyebrows.

Jeremy didn't even flush as heavily as James had hoped. Instead he turned to James, a smug smile on his lips, his eyes twinkling. Then Jeremy slowly licked his lips and replied in a low voice, “I could be.”

They got the keys and since James maintained that Jeremy had to prove himself first he drove them to the restaurant while Jeremy was giving directions.

 

* * *

 

Afterwards James climbed into the passenger seat of his Aston. He had given Jeremy the keys, he deserved to drive them back. The mood had been as flirtatious as it had been when Jeremy had charmed him into going out for a bite. They had brilliant conversations, laughed and from time to time a suggestive comment passed their lips.

While Jeremy adjusted the seat, James began to yawn loudly.

“Don't worry, we can just cuddle,” Jeremy joked as he started the engine. “Buckle up.”

James smiled softly at him. He was sure he would sleep wonderfully tonight. He could barely keep his eyes open in the car.

“Just take a nap, I'll wake you, okay?” Jeremy told him and reached over the middle to give his leg a squeeze.

“Thanks, Jez,” James muttered and sighed contently. He liked Jeremy, he really did. Losing him would be the worst that he could imagine at the moment. He hated that he had come so close to almost doing so, or had believed that he had come so close. But he knew that Jeremy was fine, that he was doing better, and seeing him and them back to the way they had been before all of this happened … it was good. James dozed with a small smile on his lips.

“FUCK!” Jeremy shouted. James didn't even manage to fully come back to himself before the whole world shifted. Something crashed into the left side of the car, throwing James violently against the car's door. The pain was astonishing. It travelled from his arm to his shoulder up to his neck. It became too much and he screamed.

Then he tried to catch his breath, shaking his head. _Since when was it so hard to breathe?_ he wondered as he counted to ten. Only then did he manage to open his eyes. He saw double, if not triple. His head was hurting like _hell._

“Jez?” James called out. But he could barely recognise his own voice. James wasn't sure if that was due to the ringing in his ears or because his voice had failed him. “Jez?” he muttered again, feeling helpless. He wanted to feel Jeremy's arms around him. He wanted Jeremy to tell him that everything would be all right again.

James felt dizzy, he couldn't keep his eyes open for longer. It hurt. Everything hurt. James leaned against the door frame and closed them. “Jez,” James muttered again, and reached for the middle of the car. His fingers brushed against Jeremy's hand. James took it in his and gave him a squeeze. Before he passed out he thought he felt Jeremy squeeze back.

 

* * *

 

James became aware of things again when he heard a siren in the distance. This time he opened his eyes, and chose to ignore the pain. He had to. James had to make sure that Jeremy was all right. His hand was only loosely holding onto James' hand. “Jez?” James turned in his seat and winced. He shook his head, he had to ignore the pain. But when James saw Jeremy, he almost threw up. “Oh god.”

The side of the Aston had been wedged in by whatever had crashed into them. Jeremy's leg was stuck, his arm was twisted in every possible way. But the worst was by far that some piece of the car had impaled Jeremy. It had gone from his back and out by his stomach. “Jeremy,” James whispered, as he felt a wetness on his cheeks.

With a shaking hand, James touched Jeremy's cheek. He didn't respond. James suppressed a sob. He had to be calm. There was a very simply way to check if someone was still breathing. James lifted his hand over Jeremy's mouth. But he felt … nothing.

James began to cry. He shook his head, god this couldn't be happening. James took Jeremy by the shoulders and shook him. “Please,” he begged. “Please, Jez. Please.” He shouted louder and louder, begging him to wake up, and to fucking breathe again. “WAKE UP!”

While he desperately screamed someone knocked at the car's door. James ignored them, he kept shaking Jeremy's lifeless body. He begged him. “Please!”

“JAMES!” He heard Jeremy's voice. But his body still lay there, broken, bleeding … dead. “WAKE UP!”

 

* * *

 

Only then did James open his eyes. Jeremy's blue-grey eyes were staring down at him, worried, so damn worried. Jeremy held James by the shoulders and James noticed that he was holding onto Jeremy's lower arms.

James couldn't understand it. Not at all. Jeremy had been … And now he was here, and they were in the hotel. “Jez,” James just whispered and began to cry.

Jeremy drew him in his arms. “It's all right,” Jeremy muttered and kissed James' temple and then drew soothing circles on his back. James took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. But nothing helped more than feeling Jeremy's arms around him. His breath on the nape of his neck and the comforting words that he whispered occasionally.

James nodded and Jeremy released him, he still kept an arm on his shoulders. James rubbed his face in shame. Then he noticed that Richard and Andy were standing in the doorway. James' eyes went wide. But Jeremy turned his attention back to him.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asked him and tilted his chin so he was looking at him.

“Think so,” James just muttered and shook his head. He needed to get out of here. “I need …” James threw the blanket off and stood in the middle of the room, only in his boxer shorts and a shirt. He had no idea where to go.

“The loo?” Jeremy offered.

“Yes.” James turned around and went into the bathroom. He could hide in there until the other two were gone. James closed the door. He took a piss, afterwards washed his hands and face while he eavesdropped on the others.

“Is he all right?” James heard Richard ask.

“Nightmares,” Jeremy elaborated.

“I suppose not the first time given ...” it was Andy and he didn't finish.

Jeremy seemed to get the hint Andy had dropped. “No,” he admitted.

“Are they always this bad?”

There was a pause in which Jeremy seemed to consider. James wondered if he would tell them the truth, that James had run across London once. That James often needed to call Jeremy after those nightmares. James didn't want them to know. It was bad enough that they had seen what had happened a moment ago. “No,” Jeremy answered.

“Right,” Andy muttered, most likely spotting the lie.

There was a moment of silence before Jeremy picked up again. “Listen, I know how to deal with that,” Jeremy explained. “Now, please, bugger off before he has to hide in the loo for longer.”

“We're just worried,” Richard stated. “I mean we care.”

“He knows that,” Jeremy assured.

“Jeremy's right,” Andy told Richard. “Come on. Good night.”

“Night,” Jeremy added. A few moments passed until James heard Jeremy's voice again. “They're gone, James.” He hadn't raised his voice a bit, which meant he knew that James had been eavesdropping.

James cleared his throat and shuffled out of the bathroom. Jeremy patted the place next to him of the bed, smiling, and James sat down.

“Help me,” James muttered.

“With?”

“When did my dream start?”

Jeremy shook his head, he seemed at a loss how to answer the question.

“What did we do tonight? How did I get here?” James asked instead.

Jeremy nodded, understanding now. “Shooting over, I kept going on about a little restaurant and you were the only one interested in going.”

James nodded.

“Actually I had hoped that would be the case,” Jeremy muttered under his breath. “Anyway, we had a great time, you let me drive your car back here, you were tired, and fell asleep in the passenger seat.”

James hadn't really picked up on the first part. “How did I get up here?”

“Carried you.” Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “More or less, you leaned very heavily against me. Put you in bed, tucked you in. In my defence I did not strip you of your jeans.”

James laughed and shook his head. It was likely that he had done this in his sleep. “Get up,” he told Jeremy. So he did. James lifted the blanket and found the jeans in a bundle at the end of the bed. This only confirmed his theory. Jeremy took them and folded them neatly. Then they sat back down again.

“How did you get in here?” James asked carefully.

Jeremy's smile dropped and he shook his head. “You screamed so loud you woke up quite a lot of people.” He was almost whispering. “We got the hotel manager to open your room, and … you know the rest.”

James nodded, taking the words slowly in. He couldn't believe it. It was bad enough that he had imagined that happening to Jeremy, and that for the first time he had imagined being present during the accident.

“I don't understand it,” James muttered.

Jeremy reached out for him and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I've seen you drive, I know you can do it, and still ...” James shook his head. “Why do I dream such shit?”

Jeremy shook his head. “I don't know.”

James leaned against the touch. “We had such a nice evening.” Now it was ruined, always followed by his dream, because without Jeremy's words he wouldn't know where the break between reality and dream had been.

Jeremy smiled sadly at him. “I'm gonna stay okay?”

James looked up, feeling lost for a moment. He didn't want Jeremy do that just because. But … James didn't want to be alone.

“Listen, you also stayed with me, I can do the same,” Jeremy explained and gave him a small squeeze. Then a smile formed on his lips. “And we still finish our night in bed together.”

James laughed so much at that that in the end he agreed.

When James was ready for sleep again, Jeremy had turned the lights off and wiggled under the sheets next to him. Jeremy stretched his arms and legs. In doing such he accidentally touched James' hand. James wanted to pull back, scared that Jeremy wouldn't want any contact. But Jeremy held it before James had a chance. He gave James a small squeeze which James returned. Jeremy didn't let go. James fell asleep with the knowledge that Jeremy was safe and sound next to him. He had no more nightmares for the night.

 

* * *

 

The next morning James woke up and Jeremy was still sleeping next to him. James also noticed that they were still holding hands. James turned onto his shoulder to face Jeremy, not letting go of his hand. He watched him as he slept. He looked relaxed in his sleep. If James was honest Jeremy could use a shave, he could see slight stubble, but that didn't bother James. It made him look scruffy, in a very nice way. James thought that sharing a bed with Jeremy should be strange, or awkward. But it wasn't. They were used to sharing a bed, it had to be done once or twice a year. But James knew that this was … different. He didn't mind.

Jeremy also turned onto his shoulder and stretched his toes and legs. Then Jeremy gave James' hand a squeeze, and opened his eyes.

“I told you would we could just cuddle,” Jeremy joked.

James returned the smile and played along. “There are still morning pleasures.”

Jeremy looked at him with a wicked smile. _Oh god,_ had James really thought that hinting at morning sex when in bed with Jeremy would be a good idea?

“But there is work.” James put a stop to this.

“Spoilsport,” Jeremy muttered and let go of James' hand. Before he had done so, he had moved James' hand to his mouth and kissed is gently.

James should be surprised, should he? But he wasn't. He smiled at Jeremy. Jeremy rolled onto his back and stretched his arms.

James used the moment to get the upper hand and bent over. He pressed a kiss onto the top of his head. Before Jeremy could reach him he jumped out of bed.

“Oh,” Jeremy muttered. “Someone's going hard for me,” Jeremy declared while James made his way to the bathroom.

James shook his head, biting back a smile. “Make sure you're gone when I return.”

“What? That was it?” Jeremy tried to sound like he was insulted. “Just one wonderful night together and I don't even get breakfast.”

James turned around, standing in the doorway. “You could join me, if you know how to use that mouth,” he teased him.

Jeremy suggestively licked his lips, but in the end shook his head. “Nah, that would break the three dates rule.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I am a romantic.”

 _I know,_ James had almost replied. Instead he showed him the bird and called him a coward. Jeremy threw a pillow at him but James closed the bathroom door just in time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite what had happened, James had slept well for the next few nights. Sometimes he wondered what had triggered the horrible nightmare. His dreams hadn't been this bad since … James couldn't really recall it and settled for _a while._ As far as he knew he had never screamed in his sleep, but there was nobody who could confirm that.

James sighed as he shuffled out of bed. He had had another nightmare, but he had known that it had been a dream at once. Also Jeremy hadn't died … James wasn't sure if that was comfort. It had still been unsettling: James had ran through an empty building trying to find Jeremy, running from abandoned room to another abandoned room. He had been nowhere to be found. Yet James had known that he needed to find him. Something bad would happen if he didn't.

James shook his head, slipped out of bed and went to the bathroom. After he had washed his face he looked out of the window. He saw Las Vegas under him. It was a beautiful city, especially at night.

James went back to his bag and fished out his packet of cigarettes. If he couldn't have a cup of tea this would work too. He slipped into his shoes and walked out onto the balcony. For a moment he was amazed how quiet it was up here. Then he lightened his fag and took a drag.

“Jet-lag?” James jumped when he heard the voice. He turned around seeing Jeremy on the balcony next to him. Only a small fence separating the two.

“Don't do that!” James protested, seeing that Jeremy was having a smoke too.

Jeremy smiled apologetic. “Not sure how I could have not frightened you.” He shrugged his shoulders and added, “also no fun.”

James rolled his eyes, he shuffled a little closer to Jeremy. For a moment he wondered if jet-lag was what kept Jeremy awake. James risked a look at him, his heart warmed a little bit. Jeremy was watching the city while smoking. A soft smile was playing on his lips, no doubt lost in the lights under them. He was completely unguarded at the moment.

James' small smile fell when he noticed that Jeremy must have been crying a moment ago. He could still see the wet trail that had been left behind. James didn't know if he should talk to Jeremy about this. He let out a sigh and thus caught Jeremy's attention again.

“It wasn't the jet-lag,” James replied to the first question.

Jeremy nodded and stumped out his cigarette. “Sorry to hear.” He seemed to mean it. “Was it bad?”

James shook his head. “Had worse.” Given that his worse was running across London, or screaming people awake he realized too late that this wouldn't reassure Jeremy. “No, it wasn't bad. I knew where I was when I woke up and … nobody died.”

Jeremy nodded. “Right, good.”

James had also finished his fag and faced Jeremy. “What about you?” he asked bluntly.

Jeremy gaped for a moment. It was likely that he didn't want to talk about his dreams. Then Jeremy shook his head and shrugged his shoulders again. “It wasn't nice, but I knew it was a dream.”

“A dream of something that happened?” James asked.

“No, an alternative,” Jeremy elaborated quietly. “Didn't like it.”

James nodded, sympathising.

“I dreamt that I lost my arm.” Jeremy shook his head and blinked rapidly. “I like my arms.”

James smiled weakly, knowing he tried to cheer up the situation. “I do too.” James went along.

Jeremy let out an airy laugh. “Thanks.”

James took a deep breath. “Listen, if you don't want to be alone you can come over.” By the time he had finished the sentence he was inspecting his feet.

“Sure?”

James looked up and nodded. “Yeah.” Maybe that was their new thing. James had begun to notice that he slept better with Jeremy around. Then James knew that Jeremy was fine, and that he wouldn't die. James wouldn't let that happen, as long as Jeremy was near him James would keep him safe.

“Thanks,” Jeremy muttered. “Do you want me to heroically climb over the fence or use the door?”

James giggled. “Please, the door, you'd only slip and fall to your ...” James cut off realizing what he was about to say. Luckily Jeremy hadn't noticed, he was laughing happily and left for his hotel room. James also walked back inside to let Jeremy inside.

“Let's hope that Andy doesn't interpret too much into this,” Jeremy muttered as he walked into the room. A small smile was playing on his lips.

James snorted and closed the door. “Our second night together and you think it's nothing,” James joked.

When he looked up he saw that Jeremy was standing in the middle of the room. Suddenly he seemed uncomfortable. It was like James had stepped on a landmine.

“Erm ...” James tried to begin. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I was just … teasing.”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the bed. “It's okay. I am not really in the mood.” When he looked up, James could see a playful smile on his lips. The double meaning was intentional. At least James hadn't hurt him, or Jeremy wasn't showing it …

Then Jeremy wiggled under the sheets and let out a sigh. He turned onto his shoulder and patted the place next to him. James smiled and slipped under the sheets as well. “Good night, Jez,” James muttered as if it would be the most natural thing between them to share a bed.

Jeremy seemed to fall asleep quickly. James didn't, he was wondering why he didn't find this odd. It didn't feel odd sleeping in the same bed as Jeremy, watching as he twitched in his sleep from time to time.

A few minutes later Jeremy began to whisper in his sleep. James shuffled a little closer and realized that Jeremy was calling out for help. Jeremy was most likely screaming like hell in his dream, but in reality it only came out as a small whimper. Jeremy sucked in a wet breath and shook his head. He muttered James' name.

James froze. Jeremy was not only shouting for help, he was asking for James' help. Carefully James shuffled closer and ran his hand through Jeremy's hair. “Jez, it's okay,” he whispered and placed a kiss on top of his head.

Jeremy shook his head, still asleep, and then reached for James' arm. He held onto it, not painfully but still firm. James couldn't think of anything better to do and drew Jeremy in his arms. He hushed Jeremy from time to time. Very soon Jeremy found a comfortable spot on his chest, his hand clutching his shirt but he calmed down. He was barely muttering any words when James fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning James woke up before Jeremy. He carefully detached making sure that Jeremy didn't wake up and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

This couldn't become some sort of habit … This couldn't work forever. What if people would figure it out? Right now, James didn't want to worry about that. Jeremy slept better when James held him, and James slept better when he knew that Jeremy was safe. In a strange way it worked. What was wrong with that?

Still James let out a sigh …

 


	4. Chapter 4

James didn't see Jeremy for the next week. Both of them had had to shoot various solo clips. Jeremy had to take care of what he had missed due to his broken arm and James had to fly back to Australia to shoot the last bit for his car review. It was strange to be back in the same place … Every moment he feared that he might get a call from the hospital, saying that Jeremy had had another accident.

One time he had dreamt such. But since it was only late afternoon in Britain by the time James had called, he felt less guilty about it. Jeremy sounded more cheery, and they talked casually for a while. Then James felt calm again, he smiled and a comfortable silence stretched.

“Oh, by the way.” Jeremy cut through it. “My arm isn't wrapped up any longer.”

James smiled. “Good.”

“It scarred a little.” Jeremy didn't sound too off-put by this.

“More than expected?” James asked.

“I don't know, I never really thought about it,” Jeremy admitted. “I just look down at it and it's there.”

James stayed quiet. He wondered for a moment what it looked like. Was it a big scar? Or just a thin line as Jeremy had shown him a month ago? Or had it scarred more?

“Well … I'm sure you'll get used to it,” James tried to encourage him.

“True. I also got used to your face,” Jeremy remarked. James had to laugh and shook his head.

“You're the one talking,” he replied in good humour. “Listen, I'll go to bed now.”

“Night, Slow.”

“Night, Jez,” James muttered.

James sighed as he hung up. He felt a glum feeling begin to settle in the pit of his stomach. He thought about Jeremy's scar. Why did any of this happen? He wondered. Jeremy didn't need to have such a scar. He would always be reminded of the accident. Maybe it was longer or more obvious than any of them had imagined …

Despite himself, James felt a tear run down his cheek. He didn't want Jeremy to be hurt, even if he had lived through it. The thought that he had to live through something so horrible hurt James. A scar always meant that something painful had happened. This wasn't fair, James thought again. Jeremy was too good. He made James smile when nothing else could, and lately that had been very often.

When he lay down again James imagined Jeremy lying next to him. Jeremy would look at him, hold his hand and maybe run a hand through James' hair. His eyes would show compassion, as they had always done in the past. Then he would tell a joke, “of course you can cry during our first time.” James laughed, closed his eyes and fell asleep again.

 

* * *

 

The next time, James saw Jeremy during work. The only segments that had to be shot were the ones which included all three of them. It would be part of the hour long clip. It was typical that during those they had to lower their standards when it came to luxury. Sometimes they had a shared bathroom, the walls or blankets were too thin, but as long as it didn't include camping both James and Jeremy were happy. This time their lowered standards meant sharing rooms.

Wilman had walked into the communal dining area while he announced such and stated everyone should find a partner. Jeremy was the first to shout out of the blue, “I'll take James.”

James quietly agreed with that but looked at Jeremy, shaking his head. This wasn't a school trip and Jeremy didn't actually have to announce this out loud. It seemed to take Jeremy a few seconds to come to the same realization. “I'm doing all of you a favour here,” Jeremy added.

This made everyone laugh, and started the joke where everyone announced their room mate, and then added the reason why … As it was with all of them, they never added a nice reason.

 

* * *

 

James came into their room after having had dinner with Hammond. Jeremy had declined, explaining that he was tired. So when James opened the door he was quiet, but Jeremy wasn't asleep. He was sitting at the edge of their bed, only wearing his sweatpants. James noticed that his hair was still damp, and concluded that Jeremy hadn't expected James to be back so soon.

James closed the door and cleared his throat. Jeremy turned around and weakly returned a smile. Then James noticed that he was running his fingertips over the tissue on his left hand. Over his scar …

“I thought you'd be back later,” Jeremy echoed James' thoughts.

James shrugged his shoulders, took a breath before replying, “well, it's more fun with the right company.”

Jeremy snorted and James sat down next to him. “Can I see it?” James asked carefully.

For a moment Jeremy looked at him as if James had asked him to strip naked.

“I meant the hand,” James told him dryly. “I'm not _that_ cheap.”

Jeremy shook his head, most likely a response to his statement because he offered James his hand.

James didn't dare to touch his skin, instead he let his eyes follow along the scar on Jeremy's skin. The scar ran along the side of Jeremy's hand, it started where Jeremy had shown him a month ago: between his thumb and index finger. Then it ran further down the arm but stopped halfway up Jeremy's lower arm. It was barely broader than James' finger, but noticeable. James bit his lip, he had never known that it had gone so far up.

“It's not that bad,” James stated.

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe,” he mumbled and got up to grab a long-sleeved shirt. After he slipped into it Jeremy began to talk, voice as strong as it would usually be. “Anyway, erm, the shower is yours. Be quiet when you return. I want to lie down.”

James nodded. He wanted to cheer them up and stated, “our third night together and that's it.”

“I want it to be something special,” Jeremy replied weakly. But James could tell that Jeremy wasn't in the right mood for their usual game.

When James passed Jeremy he gave his shoulder a squeeze and smiled reassuringly at him. Jeremy returned it weakly and nodded.

 

* * *

 

For the following week the shootings had been exhausting and James always had to share a room with Jeremy. But James had slept better than he remembered ever sleeping. One time he had woken up on Jeremy's chest. At first a moment of panic rose up in him. What would Jeremy do to him if he found out? But he quickly calmed again when he felt Jeremy's arms around his shoulders.

This meant that James hadn't shamelessly sneaked into Jeremy's arms during the night. Jeremy also played a role in this … cuddling. Instead he sneaked out of Jeremy's grip and left for the bathroom. James wasn't ready to figure this one out yet.

Even after this James couldn't bring himself to not share a room with Jeremy … Over the week the mood had brightened again, Jeremy was getting used to his scar, and he seemed to stop caring that it was there. So they often found themselves laughing over the same stupid jokes, while they enjoyed a pint and a cigarette. The familiar teasing also returned. While asleep they always found themselves touching, a leg resting against James', hands casually resting on arms. It was nice.

The night James realized it, feeling Jeremy's hand on his back, he smiled while falling asleep.

 

* * *

 

The next morning James opened his eyes slowly, very carefully. Once he felt reasonably awake he stretched his toes and made a little sleepy noise. That had actually been a good night sleep … James smiled to himself, feeling relaxed.

Suddenly he felt someone shuffle a little closer to him, and heard a distinctly male sigh of content.

James froze, the relaxed feeling disappearing at once. “Erm,” he muttered to himself. He and Jeremy had shared the bed, but … Jeremy usually didn't sneak into his arms … unless, had they? James wondered for a moment. No, James shook his head. He was pretty sure that he would remember _that_.

Okay, so Jeremy had at some point in the night sneaked into his arms. Now he was contently drooling onto his shirt. Slowly James remembered the last night. It had been like any other, after a pint of beer, they had crawled into the bed they had to share. Jeremy had wished him a good night, stretched his legs and then curled up, closing his eyes. James had watched as Jeremy had slowly drifted off into sleep. At some point James must have followed suit.

But that didn't exactly explain how Jeremy had ended up snuggled to his side, with his head resting over his heart. Holding hands, their legs touching, or James knowingly taking Jeremy in his arms … it was not exactly the same as this. James wasn't even sure if he really wanted an explanation for that right now. The only time James recalled have Jeremy cuddling him like this was in his dreams.

Maybe … this was just one of his dreams that turned into a horrid nightmare. It felt like one. They always started like this: Jeremy and him, happy, always as a couple. Sometimes they would have breakfast together, other times they would hold each other in their sleep. But it always ended the same, Jeremy would have to leave and a few minutes later James would get a call … Jeremy had been injured, killed, or anything else that was not bearable.

James sighed and pinched himself. He clenched his teeth. _Ouch,_ that hurt. Then he frowned and looked down at Jeremy. He did look adorable this way, James found himself thinking. Nevertheless James rested his hand on Jeremy's arm and pinched.

“AH!” Jeremy flinched back and shuffled to the edge of the bed. “What the hell?”

James looked at him and bit back laughter. “I was just making sure I'm not dreaming.”

Jeremy rubbed along his wound. “Pinch yourself that's fair, but why me?”

James shrugged his shoulders. He didn't know.

“I was sleeping,” Jeremy whined and turned his back on him. His feet tucked under his chin and cuddling a pillow. “What time is it?”

“Ten minutes before 8,” James explained as he looked at the clock.

“So not only do you pinch me, but you also pinch me ten minutes before we were meant to get up,” Jeremy complained into his pillow. “I demand those ten minutes.”

James sighed.

“Come on,” Jeremy urged him.

“What?”

“I want my ten minutes of cuddling,” Jeremy mumbled. His voice had gone quiet.

James looked at him for a moment. Jeremy want to … spoon with him? James wondered.

“You held me the whole night,” Jeremy sounded cheeky again. “And suddenly you're being shy.”

James laughed and shook his head. Jeremy shuffled a little towards James, making it easy for him. So James carefully put his hand around Jeremy's tum and rested his head in the nape of his neck. He relaxed after a few moments and noticed that Jeremy was breathing slowly and regularly.

“See?” Jeremy muttered.

“Manly cuddling?” James teased him.

“If you want to call it that.”

James smiled into his shoulders.

_Oh shit._ But he didn't actually want to move away from Jeremy. It was comfortable, it was warm, and Jeremy made sure with little things that James was comfortable. Such as that he hadn't pressed his arse against his crotch. That would be the day; Jeremy being pressed against the semi he started to nurse. James blushed at the thought. It wasn't such a bad thought, if he was honest. He just couldn't think like that near Jeremy. Jeremy who was pretty straight … or was he? James wondered for a moment.

After all Jeremy was the one who demanded the cuddles, and going by how James had woken up had been the one who had sneaked into his arms, he had also held James a few night prior … The fact that Jeremy hadn't run away panicked, showed that he was aware that he might have tendencies towards men, or at the very least one man.

That was really the last thing he could use now, James scolded himself. Not only did he have nightmares about losing Jeremy, now he was also worrying where Jeremy preferred to hide his sausage. Maybe Jeremy was like James; with a weak spot for men and women. Even if, it would be ridiculous to assume that just because Jeremy liked men, that he would prefer to hide his sausage in James, or let James … Erk, James really couldn't think like that with Jeremy contently dozing in his arms. _Great, really great …_

Then Jeremy turned in his arms, a small smile playing on his lips and he buried his head in James' chest now. “See? Is nice,” Jeremy muttered into it.

James only nodded and wrapped his second arm around Jeremy as well. Then Jeremy did something very bold, and very, very stupid. He put his leg between James'. _Oh shit,_ now things were more than clear. But Jeremy didn't shy away _at all._ If anything, he pressed his body even closer. Unless James was catastrophically mistaken, he could feel Jeremy smiling into his chest.

_Fuck, was Jeremy teasing him?_ Jeremy didn't make any other moves, his hands weren't palming his chest, hadn't sneaked underneath his shirt, weren't fumbling for his trousers … Jeremy was just resting his leg between James' legs and it was also comfortably resting against his, well, cock.

Now James wanted to look anywhere but Jeremy. The clock told him that it was already five minutes after 8AM. Maybe he should tell Jeremy, then he'd get the message; that James wasn't like that, that he didn't want to go along those lines.

Something stopped James. He wasn't ready to do that, and if he was honest he did want Jeremy like that, wanted him whole, wanted to keep him safe until time stopped, wanted Jeremy as his, and to be Jeremy's in return. Not just a quick fuck, but everything.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit …_

“Oi, are you two awake?!” Both jumped hearing Andy's voice as he knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jeremy shouted back. Jeremy removed his leg from where it had been and James had almost slapped him for it.

“Good, half an hour!”

Jeremy pulled a face and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, then,” he muttered and before James could reply with anything Jeremy had kissed his cheek. Then Jeremy hopped out of the bed and walked to the bathroom.

James lay in bed, blushing heavily. Did Jeremy want him too? And in more than just a quick fuck? It wasn't like he had made any too bold moves. They had only cuddled … Which meant that either Jeremy had forgotten what a woman looked like since his accident or he was like James.

“Bi,” he blurted out.

Jeremy looked back into the room, frowning. “I am just brushing my teeth, not leaving,” he replied half-heartedly.

James blushed even more.

 

* * *

 

James wasn't sure how to deal with this now. During the shoot he hadn't come into any uncomfortable positions with Jeremy. They had never been alone, they hadn't been locked up in a car together. James had had all the time in the world to _not_ think about what had happened this morning.

Was it really such a surprise that he had feelings for Jeremy? And those feelings too? Ever since the accident he had been worried and had constantly thought of losing Jeremy. He couldn't bear the thought. He couldn't even dream about it. But the nightmares got better. Slowly, step by step.

But Jeremy had always been there, been near him and now that it turned out Jeremy might have feelings for James … he didn't know what to think.

So Jeremy was bisexual too, James had guessed. Well, James had never traditionally come out to Jeremy. James had thought Jeremy might notice it and if he didn't James couldn't really be bothered. James could never be arsed to stand in front of people and say _hey, I am bi!_ Was it so odd to think that Jeremy dealt with this in the same manner …

“You're sleeping well these days?” it was more a question than a statement. James stopped facing his beer and looked at Jeremy who was sitting down next to him.

“Yeah, it got better,” James replied. He had hadn't any nightmares last night, and only one where he woke up feeling displaced a few days ago. He hadn't shouted, screamed, hadn't even been drenched in sweat and he had known that it had been a dream at once.

“Good,” Jeremy replied. They sipped on their beers for a moment. “You had one last night.”

“What?” James didn't remember it.

“That's why … why I held you,” Jeremy explained carefully. “You calmed down when I did, and kept sleeping. Eventually you ended up holding me.”

“Okay.” That would at least explain how Jeremy had ended up in his arms. But that did not _at all_ explain why he had demanded extra cuddles and had pressed his body so tightly against his. Or why the hell he had kissed his cheek!

“If you'd rather stay with Hammond this night, I can understand. We'd just have to switch rooms,” Jeremy suggested, James thought he tried to sound casual but wasn't pulling it off.

James looked at him, and frowned. _What?_ He was the one who had demanded extra cuddles! And now he didn't want to be near him any longer.

“If you're not comfortable with me around,” Jeremy added quietly.

James had almost snorted. Jeremy was looking after him. He thought that James was the one with the identity crisis. James didn't have one, and apparently Jeremy didn't either. Neither of them had one! James shook his head. No, he wanted Jeremy to stay in the same room with him. At least this way Jeremy would be safe, and James wouldn't even mind more “manly cuddles.”

“Don't worry about it,” James stated, also trying to sound casual. Maybe he wasn't quite ready to go all the way with Jeremy, or any way at all, yet. But he was sure that he didn't want to push him away. That was one of the few things he knew. “You can stay.”

Jeremy smiled and nodded. “Good.”

  
  


* * *

 

It seemed almost natural that the next morning James woke up and held Jeremy Clarkson in his arms. This time he wasn't even surprised. James could remember how they had ended up like this. James had watched Jeremy fall contently asleep. James had noticed that he had looked relaxed, and concluded that he was dreaming of an Alfa. Then James had shuffled closer and spooned with Jeremy. Jeremy had easily relaxed against him. James had fallen asleep with a smile on his face.

Yes, cuddling was good. James wanted cuddling. He didn't want to lose Jeremy. He wanted to be near him. The next morning James chose to be as bold as Jeremy had been and kissed his cheek. He watched as Jeremy sleepily realized what James had done.

Slowly Jeremy blinked himself into the world. Then he turned onto his back and looked at James. James who was lying on his own tum, and watched Jeremy in return. Yes, James could also get used to that.

“Morning,” Jeremy whispered, sleep still covering his eyes. He stretched his legs and arms.

James didn't reply, he just watched. He also watched as Jeremy put his hand on James' shoulder, giving him a squeeze.

Jeremy wasn't doing more, he seemed to be waiting, judging how James would react to the contact. James couldn't help himself, he smiled.

So Jeremy moved on and gently cupped his cheek, his thumb moving along his jawline. Jeremy smiled too.

James couldn't believe it, but he'd take it any day. Jeremy's touch was soft and James leaned into it. Then James shuffled closer, rested his hands on Jeremy's shoulder.

It would be so easy, just a brief contact. Then a sweet small kiss. Yes. Yes, that was what James wanted. Jeremy would be safe with him. He would be with James.

James moved closer, their faces inches apart. He hesitated, feeling Jeremy's warm and hot breath against his. Would Jeremy want this too? But the question was answered when Jeremy closed the gap, he kissed James. And James kissed back.

_God yes_ , Jeremy wanted him too. The first kiss was soft and slow, when they broke apart James could feel Jeremy smiling. The second one was deep and longing. James was holding onto him, and kissed back. His tongue traced along Jeremy's lips. Jeremy pushing against him, demanding more and James gave it to him, and pushed past his lips. Jeremy moaned quietly in return.

Then James put a leg between Jeremy's. _Let's see how much he likes that_. The answer was that he liked it very much. Jeremy's hands were fumbling with James' shirt and pushed underneath. He pulled James closer, and James could feel Jeremy's hard cock. _Oh fuck, what the fuck were they doing?_

James didn't want to think about that. He just wanted to feel Jeremy's hot breath against his naked skin, spread his legs apart and make Jeremy his. Have him panting and shouting his name as James would take him. He would never lose Jeremy, never again. This would make Jeremy his, just his. James could keep him safe, and nothing would ever hurt him again.

Jeremy let out a distinctive moan as James rolled his hips against his. But James pulled back, finally the question of _what the fuck are you doing?_ breaking through the haze. Jeremy opened his eyes and looked at him.

“James?” Jeremy asked carefully.

Of course James knew what the fuck he was doing. That wasn't the issue, it was _why_ the fuck. Why the fuck was he doing that?

“James, we don't have to you know,” Jeremy tried to get through him. “I mean, we can take things slowly.”

James looked down at Jeremy, he was still panting but was more cautious now. So this wasn't just a quick no strings attached shag. No, clearly not. James had known that, of course he had.

God, did James actually return all those feeling that Jeremy seemed to hold for him?

Jeremy carefully wiggled out from under him and placed his hands on James' shoulder. “James?” he asked again.

James shook his head. “I don't know,” he muttered because at the moment nothing made any sense to him any longer.

What if he didn't hold any feelings for Jeremy? He didn't want to lose him, not as a friend not as anything that could have possibly been. And if he did go down this road for all the wrong reasons? What then? They'd crash and burn and take all of it with them …

James didn't know, he just repeated those words again. Nothing made sense to him. Nothing. Why wasn't this easy? Why did he look into Jeremy's eyes and saw … fear? Why was he scared?

James couldn't do this. He needed to get away. He couldn't. Not like this.

“I don't know,” James repeated and got out of the bed. James grabbed his bag that was still lying on the floor, and scrambled out of the room while Jeremy called his name, asked him to talk to him.

  
  


* * *

* * *

  
  


Jeremy didn't know what to do. For the last two days James had kept away from him. While shooting he had always stayed at the other end. Jeremy hadn't been willing to break character, or push James in front of the whole crew. This was a private matter and should be dealt with as such.

At first Jeremy had thought that maybe James was having an identity crisis after all. But for that James shouldn't have told Jeremy – completely drunk – that he liked snogging men too a few years back. James had been so confused. Jeremy had seen it written all over his face. As if he was coming back to himself, and realized that there was more. Things that he hadn't worked out yet, maybe he hadn't even known that those were there.

Jeremy sighed, he thought it was clear that James also had feelings for Jeremy. After all they had been flirting – quite outrageously sometimes – before the accident. What if James hadn't realized it? But James had kissed him. And then he had done … other things. Very nice things.

Of course Jeremy had figured that the accident would push things back. After all Jeremy needed time to recover. Then Jeremy had noticed that James was suffering too. He had taken things slowly. A soft kiss on top of his head while he was asleep, a nice dinner date, staying the nights with him and holding him each time when James had cuddled Jeremy in his sleep. Then the time James had held him, and James hadn't beaten him up once he had demanded more cuddles while awake.

Jeremy had thought James was back to his normal self. The self that flirted with Jeremy and shouted across the hall that the next time he'd wear that shirt he'd rip it off Jeremy, which had been followed by a very suggestive wink. Jeremy had needed a quiet moment alone – in the bathroom, under the shower – to get that idea out of his head. Just to tease James, Jeremy had worn the shirt again, whispering that he should rip it off if he dared. James had smiled wickedly at him in return.

But as soon as they had come anywhere near ripping shirts off each other James had frozen, and panicked.

When they were back in London Jeremy sent a simple _Are you okay?_ But there was no reply.

One time Jeremy drove out to Hammersmith, to confront James, tell him to talk to him. Maybe to apologize. But Jeremy sat in the car, and watched as James sat on the sofa, seemingly petting his cat.

Jeremy sighed and driven back home again. He shouldn't force James to talk, he knew he'd only retreat more.

The biggest shock came when Jeremy walked into the office. He sought out Andy at once. He needed someone to talk about this. Who was better to trust with those things than the man who had caught him making out with a boy in school?

“Andy, do you have a moment? It's important,” Jeremy had asked as he burst into his office.

Andy sighed and nodded. “What is it that everyone wants to talk to me today?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “It's about May ...” he began and almost blurted out the whole story. But before he could even get anywhere Andy cut him off.

“Listen it's his holiday, he can take it whenever he wants to,” Andy told him. “He didn't look good, he seems to need it.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, taken aback. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“James May, a bit shorter than you, taller than me, grey hair?” Andy offered. Jeremy still looked lost. “Oh, you didn't know.”

Jeremy shook his head.

“He asked if he could take an unknown time off, well he said max two months,” Andy began, his voice sounding soft all of the sudden. “Said he needed the time. I told him that's okay, we have shot all the clips already. Admittedly if he actually goes away for two months we're pretty f---, Jeremy!” Andy called after him as Jeremy turned on his heel.

Jeremy stopped and took a deep breath.

“This doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?”

Jeremy's shoulders sagged but he nodded. “Might. I'll tell you later.”

Andy seemed to be content with the answer and beckoned Jeremy to go. So he did.

  
  


* * *

 

Jeremy briskly walked into James' office. He didn't even bother with knocking.

“What do you think you're doing?“ Jeremy simply burst out, startling James.

James turned around. Andy had been right, James didn't look good. It seemed like the hadn't slept for weeks, he looked unwashed and messy. Apparently James hadn't taken care of himself. “I don't know what you mean.“

“Andy just told me that you're going away for an unknown time,“ Jeremy explained.

James stared at Jeremy, and just shrugged his shoulders. “So? I am not allowed to take a holiday?”

“Don't give me that,” Jeremy warned him. “That's not it, and we both know it.”

“Clarkson, if you worry about the show, I promise I'll be back in time, and we've already filmed ---”

“I don't worry about the show,” Jeremy cut him off, his voice softened. “I worry about you.”

James bit his lip, shaking his head.

“What's wrong?”

No reply.

“Can you at least look at me?” Jeremy asked softly, feeling his heart slowly breaking. He took a step towards James. After a while James looked up, meeting Jeremy's eyes.

“I just … I just need some time away,” James explained carefully. “I need to figure a few things out.”

Jeremy took in the words. “Okay,” was the only reply he could utter.

James nodded and turned around to grab his car keys. “Thanks.”

As he was about to walk by Jeremy, Jeremy gently stopped him by resting his hand on James' arm. “If … if you need anything ...” Jeremy began quietly. “Just give me a call. I'll come running.”

“You can't even run,” James tried weakly. Then he nodded. “Thank you, Jezza.”

For a few moments they stood like this, not sure if anyone could or even should add words. James took a step towards Jeremy, and wrapped his arms around him. Carefully Jeremy hugged him back.

“Thank you,” James repeated quietly. When they detached James pressed a soft kiss onto Jeremy's cheek. Then he left.

Jeremy couldn't help himself, he felt like he had lost a friend. Even though he knew he hadn't. James was the kind of person who had to figure out some things by himself. Whatever it was, James couldn't do it here …

“Welcome,” Jeremy muttered into the empty office.

 


	5. Chapter 5

One month had passed since James had left to … go away, think things over.

Jeremy didn't know what James was thinking about, but he could guess. It must have been more than their kiss. Jeremy didn't regret it, he refused to feel sorry for it. He had liked the feeling of James' lips on his, even if James didn't return all those feelings.

At the very least Jeremy had tried. He had given James the chance, and had given them a chance. He couldn't force James into anything – no matter how stubborn he was – and to be honest, Jeremy didn't even want to force James into this. No, he wanted James because James wanted to be with him. Still Jeremy didn't think that it was just him. But Jeremy couldn't be sure, and while he tried to lose no sleep on it, sometimes he did.

James hadn't called him since he had left. Jeremy didn't know where James was, or what he was doing. But every week Jeremy would get a small text from James saying that he was doing fine; feeling better, and one time he had added that Jeremy should try a Banana Daiquiri. Jeremy never replied with much, always with _good._ At least James was figuring this out. Jeremy wanted to give him all the time he needed.

Right now Jeremy was searching his fridge wondering what he should re-fry for lunch. When the phone rang he was staring at a box of Indian takeaway. He didn't read the screen and simply picked up. “Hello, hello.”

“Clarkson?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and felt like someone had kicked his chest. “James ...” he muttered quietly. James had never called.

“It's, erm ...” James tried to find the words.

“Yes,” Jeremy replied, staring at the open fridge, but the Indian takeaway was forgotten. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am good,” James replied. “Listen, I'm coming home.”

Jeremy bit his lip and tried to keep his emotions in check. _Shit,_ he had never guessed that he had missed James that much. “Right. Good.”

“I was wondering if … maybe you'd pick me up from Heathrow on Saturday, and if you'd like to do something afterwards.”

Jeremy nodded, not really trusting his voice. Then he remembered that this was a phone conversation. “Sure. When?”

“Hang on.” Jeremy could hear rumbling. “The flight number is _EZY5354_ , I should arrive at 8:30PM.”

Jeremy wrote the number down, and took a deep breath. “James?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I allowed to be sentimental?”

“Just this once,” James replied easily.

“I've ...” Jeremy shook his head, _no._ “I'm glad you're coming back.”

“So am I,” James added softly.

Jeremy nodded. “Have you been able to … work things out?”

“Yes,” James stated, sounding relieved. “And I'm looking … forward to seeing you again.” James' voice had softened considerably.

“Of course you are. Then you won't have to carry all your beauty products,” Jeremy added quickly, knowing how uncomfortable James was when it came to sentiment.

James laughed. “Thanks,” he stated dryly. “Thank you, Clarkson,” he added, more honest now. “Till then.”

“I'll see you on Saturday,” Jeremy added, and waited for James to hang up.  
  


* * *

 

 

Jeremy was walking up the arrival terminal, holding a little piece of cardboard to his body. He made sure that nobody could see the writing. Jeremy Clarkson picking up James May from the airport, not a problem. _But what a stupid idea!?_ Jeremy Clarkson picking up James May from the airport with a sign that said  _Captain Slow,_ a bit of a problem.

Jeremy already blushed when thinking about someone else seeing this. But this was James May, and he hadn't seen him in a month. Jeremy had finally admitted that he had missed him horribly. So when he had been 30 minutes early, and had been sitting in his flat – with his shoes on, jacket on, and already wearing a scarf – Jeremy had seen the piece of cardboard and misused it in the hope that James would find it funny. Or at the very least give him this slightly annoyed but amused look.

Jeremy clenched his fist, trying to get rid of some tension. Then he suppressed the urge to play with his car keys. Even though he had killed the time left over in his flat Jeremy was still early.

After a few minutes the first pile of people from James' flight began to stream out of the luggage pick-up. Jeremy stood a bit taller, not seeing any grey hair, and soon realized that James might not be among the crowd. James must have travelled with more than just hand-luggage. But then Jeremy spotted grey hair, and a very familiar posture.

James.

Jeremy cleared his throat, looked around and turned his cardboard sign over. Well … there he stood, and waited until James would not only spot this ugly, fat and curly-haired bloke but also the stupid sign, that somehow Jeremy hadn't talked himself out of.

Jeremy could see James scanning the hall. Damn him, he had only travelled with hand-luggage. Then James caught onto Jeremy and smiled at him. Jeremy smiled back, feeling his heart pick up speed.

Briskly James was pushing through the crowd. Jeremy could spot the _exact_ moment when James had also seen the sign. Not only did he give Jeremy the slightly annoyed but amused look, but Jeremy was pretty sure that at that moment James had also realized that he had missed Jeremy.

“You've got a tan,” Jeremy stated when James was within ear-shot.

“You've got a sign,” James replied, and pointed at it.

“I thought I'd do it right.”

James began to laugh and shook his head. Then James bit his lip, only mere steps in front of Jeremy. Unlike Jeremy had expected, James didn't stop, he took the additional steps and hugged Jeremy.

Jeremy closed his eyes and hugged him back. He rested his head in the nape of James' neck, taking a deep and comfortable breath. James was pressing his head into Jeremy's chest and relaxed against him.

“I missed you,” James muttered into him.

Jeremy could only nod, because this time he really didn't trust his voice, and it wasn't a phone conversation. He didn't have to reply.

James pulled back, cleared his throat and looked over Jeremy's shoulder. His eyes were glittering and he tried to blink it away. “Erm,” James tried his own voice.

“Hammersmith?” Jeremy offered.

James nodded.

“Come on.” Jeremy pointed in the direction of the car and briefly put a hand on the James' back to guide him.

 

* * *

 

Halfway through the car journey to Hammersmith Jeremy thought James had collected himself for the most part.

“So, where have you been?” Jeremy began casually.

“Hawaii.”

“Nice,” Jeremy offered. “Never been there.”

“Me neither, thought I'd try it,” James explained.

“Good.” Jeremy cleared his throat. “Want to tell me about it?”

James looked at him for a moment and smiled. He seemed to consider. “You'd rather want to hear about Hawaii?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders. “Well, everything else is your choice. You can tell me if you want to.”

James shook his head. “Hawaii then ...” James went on to tell his story.

Jeremy noticed that James had skipped the whole first week, but didn't mention it.

When they reached Hammersmith and Jeremy parked his car along the curb James had reached week three. “Then I considered that it might be time to come back.”

“Hmm,” Jeremy agreed quietly, and turned the ignition off. “There you are.”

James looked at the house and sighed. Then he turned to Jeremy, and nodded.

“What?” Jeremy asked.

“I am considering,” James explained, still looking at Jeremy.

“And what?”

“Hmm,” was the only thing James let on. Jeremy frowned but waited. “Yeah, why not now.”

“Huh?”

James' hand rested on Jeremy's shoulder and soon Jeremy felt his soft lips on his. “Oh,” Jeremy mumbled against his lips and softly kissed him back. Jeremy cupped his cheek, and gently stroked his jawline.

When James pulled back, both were smiling. It took Jeremy a moment to recover his wit, after all his heart was happily leaping around in his chest.

“Well, I am glad you worked your homosexual tendencies out,” was the only thing Jeremy could managed.

James laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, you must know.”

Jeremy gave him a look but smiled back.

“Listen, do you want to come in?” James asked carefully. “We don't have to do anything that you're not comfortable with.”

Jeremy nodded. “Gladly.”

They walked in silence to the house, James unlocked the door and expected Fusker to bounce around his legs. But the cat sat on the sofa and barely lifted its head.

“I deserve that,” James muttered and pointed at the cat. “Erm, tea?” he offered Jeremy.

Jeremy nodded, and closed the door behind them. “Sure.”

While James went into the kitchen to make the tea, Jeremy sat on the sofa and petted Fusker a little bit. When James came back with two cups, Fusker was purring happily,

“My homosexual tendencies weren't the reason I ran away,” James stated out of the blue.

“James, I know,” Jeremy replied. “Don't worry. I know that bisexuality is a thing, you know that.”

James nodded, put the cup of tea in front of Jeremy and sat down beside him. This time Fusker looked up, saw James' comfortable lap, stalked over Jeremy and planted itself on James, still purring.

“Also you didn't run away,” Jeremy added quietly.

“I did.”

“No, you needed your time,” Jeremy began. “You took your holiday, and dropped a little message that you're still alive.”

James seemed to consider and nodded.

“And got a nice tan,” Jeremy added unnecessarily. “Can I ask something?”

James looked cautious but nodded.

“Are you tanned everywhere?”

James laughed and shook his head. “If you're lucky you'll figure that out.”

“That was cheap,” Jeremy added laughing too.

James nodded. When they calmed down again, he began to explain, “But I did … go because of you.”

“Okay.” Jeremy listened.

“I mean you obviously know how I decided, but still ...”

“Why?” Jeremy put the cup of tea down.

James sighed, trying to find the right words. “It was badly timed. You crashed and I was worried sick, then I started to have those horrible nightmares. They're almost gone now, and I did go to a professional in Hawaii. But the dreams were always the same, we were … that ...” James pointed between them. “... and happy, and then you got injured, crashed again, or died.”

Jeremy reached for James' hand and took it in his. James' thumb was gently running over the scarred tissue.

“And when I looked at you in the real world, I felt scared, in a very strange way. And I knew it was more than … a friend being worried for another friend. And I began to consider that maybe I ...”

“Like _like_ me?” Jeremy tried helpfully.

James smiled weakly. “... have those feeling for you.” Jeremy nodded. “And I didn't know if it was because it was you, or because I had been scared of losing you and it was some weird reaction. And I sort of ignored that question but then you kissed me.”

“Oi, you kissed me,” Jeremy protested.

“No, you kissed me.”

“You were on top of me, you kissed me.”

James smiled at him and shook his head. “... then we kissed. Everything just got worse and more confusing. I didn't want to jump … into anything with you when it might break because it hadn't been real from the start. So I had to figure it out, and obviously I couldn't do that near you.”

Jeremy nodded, trying to comprehend everything that James had said.

“I'm guessing that you have come to the conclusion that you have those feelings for me?” Jeremy asked carefully.

James turned to him. “Yes, Jeremy Clarkson ...” Jeremy looked up. “... I like _like_ you.”

Jeremy smiled brightly at him and nodded. “Good.” He gave James' hand a squeeze. “I do too.”

Then he carefully leaned forward and kissed James on the cheek, only to move towards his lips and softly kiss him. James sighed happily against him.

Suddenly James let out a yelp. Jeremy pulled back and saw that Fusker had clawed on James' lap. Just that the yelp had frightened Fusker who was staring with wide eyes at both of them. Then it decided that the place was unnecessarily loud because it walked into the kitchen.

“Oh no, I guess I have to kiss it better,” Jeremy offered.

“And you dare to call me cheap,” James replied grinning.

 

* * *

 

During the night they shared tender kisses, palmed each other's chests, nuzzled the nose in the nape of the neck, and kissed along it. They held each other in between talking quietly about the past, about fears, hopes. It might have been the most personal conversation they had ever had.

Then James walked up the stairs, Jeremy tailing along and holding onto his hand. “You don't have to,” James told him. “We can just sleep.”

Jeremy grinned. “We've been talking suggestive for the whole night, now I am confused which you mean.”

James couldn't help himself and laughed. The next thing he knew was that Jeremy had kissed him. Then they were lying side by side on the bed, their legs intertwined and Jeremy getting rid of James's shirt. He kissed along his chest, drawing patterns with his tongue as James lost himself to the touch.

Even James wasn't _this_ patient and fumbled for their trousers, pushing them down. He reached for Jeremy and pulled his hips towards his, bringing their cocks together. He was gently stroking both of them until Jeremy was panting helplessly against his shoulder.

Jeremy's hands wrapped around James, and James was holding onto Jeremy. Jeremy came shuddering quietly with his head buried in James' shoulder. James had come along, body pressed against Jeremy.

James was wondering how to get rid of the mess without having to let go of Jeremy, when he saw his partner's face. A small trail of tears had formed but Jeremy was smiling.

James bit his lip, he had never felt more protective of Jeremy. With his clean hand he wiped them away and wrapped his arms around Jeremy. He'd worry about the mess later …

Jeremy was all he wanted.

 


End file.
